Into the Gray
by LMSharp
Summary: Darden Leona woke up in an abandoned mining facility. Alarms were ringing out sporadically. All the inhabitants seemed to be dead. And the entire galaxy was after her. Follow Darden Leona as she makes sense out of nonsense, finds truth amidst betrayal, and, above all, makes peace with herself. TSL novelization. LSF Exile. A not-quite sequel to The Edge of Light and Dark.
1. Prologue

Prologue

Sometimes, war breeds reform. Sometimes, battle brings injustice to light, ends suffering, and ushers in the breath of freedom.

And sometimes, war breeds war. Sometimes, people die for no reason, and resentments are created, and countries and planets and galaxies shatter to pieces and fall to self-cannibalism.

It is never apparent, in the beginning, whether any one war will do one or the other, or both.

It was still unclear, even ten years after the fact, whether the Mandalorian Wars were fought for good or ill. The Mandalorians were defeated. Planets were saved from their destruction, and their rule. The Republic was preserved, though greatly weakened. But the Mandalorian clans, once so proud, were scattered. The Mandalorians themselves had become little more than thugs and scum, where once they had been mighty warriors. And as for the known galaxy, it had been all but torn apart by the carnage. Mandalorians, Republic soldiers, Jedi, all had blood on their hands. Both sides had slaughtered. And the destruction of Malachor V rang out across the galaxy.

The Jedi could not come to terms with the part their own had played in the Wars. Those that had not fought, those that had let the galaxy be consumed in fire out of some misguided morality, or misplaced pacifism, were despised by soldiers. In their turn, they could not forgive those that had disregarded their authority and abandoned ethics to enact atrocities no better, or worse, than those enacted by the enemy. For the soldiers among the Jedi, for Revan's part, and the part of those that followed her: they did not ask forgiveness. Consumed with contempt for the weakness of the Jedi and the Republic, corrupted by the darkness of the deeds they had done and the strange places they had walked, Revan, Malak, and many that followed them returned after a year-long disappearance at the head of a fleet bent on the conquest of the Republic and the obliteration by destruction or conversion of the entire Jedi Order.

What followed, and what caused it, has been debated hotly by historians and gossipers and Jedi and scholars time and time again. But Revan found something, out there in the Unknown Regions in that year-long disappearance. She found the Star Forge, a battle station about which little is known even yet. But she also found something else, out there in the cold, deep, dark of Unknown Space. She found something that corrupted her, and Malak her apprentice, beyond the war and made her turn traitor to the Republic after she had just finished saving it. But this treachery was not to last. It is widely believed that Revan lost her memory temporarily, three or four years into the Jedi Civil War. She was thought to be killed, but was actually captured. Her mind was supposedly destroyed, her identity displaced, and for one reason or another she rejoined the Republic under a new name. As Aithne Morrigan, Revan led the Republic to the Star Forge. She killed Malak, and helped the Republic to destroy the Star Forge. Her Sith were scattered and broken and eventually hunted down. But they had taken the Jedi with them.

It is not known why Revan rejoined the Republic as Aithne Morrigan, or whether she ever truly forsook the Dark Side. She said she did. The Jedi left her alive, and unpunished, save for a mandate never to take up the lightsaber and the Force again. But scarcely a hundred Jedi remained after the Jedi Civil War, so perhaps the judgment was not representative. At any rate, it didn't last. Scarcely two years after the war, for reasons she never disclosed to anyone, Revan left known space for the Unknown Regions once more. Perhaps she remembered something she had left there. Perhaps she had never truly forgotten, but could ignore it no longer. Perhaps she simply could not rest in a galaxy still broken. In a galaxy she had broken. To this day, she has not been heard from.

Soon after Revan's departure from known space, those few Jedi that remained after the Jedi Civil War began to vanish, too. It was a quiet thing. No one noticed them leaving, or dying, or noticed whatever happened to them. The Republic was rebuilding, clinging to the side of a cliff, scrabbling for stability. It was in debt. Inflation was critical. Civil War threatened on not one, but several planets that blamed the Republic for the cataclysmic events of the last ten years. And the Jedi- well, they had always looked out for the Republic. Not the other way around.

No one noticed until there was not a Jedi to be found. Anywhere. And the Republic began, quietly, to panic.

Then, in the dusk as the Republic tottered on the verge of collapse and the Jedi seemed to be extinct, one lone Jedi was found. And Darden Leona was hardly that. She had been a general, in the Mandalorian Wars. She had fought at Serroco, at Dxun. And she had given the order for the destruction of Malachor V. Still, she had been the only one among them that had returned, after the Mandalorian Wars. She had gone before the Council. She had been exiled for her trouble. For ten years she'd been roaming the Rim, never resting, never seeming to settle. But now she'd been found, by chance, and called back. The Republic believed her to be the last known Jedi in existence. And the feeble institution was desperate to clench at any handhold it could get.

So Darden Leona was flying to Telos IV, on the Republic ship _The Harbinger, _when it intercepted a lonely freighter, _The Ebon Hawk. _The signals said the ship had been attacked by a Sith vessel. The ship was in need of repairs. The crew were wounded. _The Harbinger _received clearance to aid from on high. They took the _Ebon Hawk_ on. And that is when this story begins.

* * *

**A/N: I never meant to write this. **_**The Edge of Light and Dark**_** was supposed to be it. Happy, sensible ending. No True Sith. Period. But someone wrote me and said "challenge". I avoid that word in any structured setting. I don't like being controlled. But I can't resist a personal dare. I need to work on that. **

**When Darden Leona sprang to life in my head a few months ago, I knew it was only a matter of time. She's been sitting there in the back of my brain for months, evolving, telling me how to tell her story in calm, logical tones. So I'm going to give it a shot, game plot-holes and all. God help me. **

**I won't quite be sticking to canon, nor quite to the series of events I established in EoLaD. Call this story an in-between sort of place, if you will. It fits the tone of the game, I think. **

**I hope you enjoy this new story. As ever, I make no claim to the plotlines and characters contained within the following paltry lines. Lucas Arts owns all of them, sharing some with Obsidian, and some with Bioware. Nice reviews and favorites make my day, but well-written, thought-out, polite, and constructive criticism is welcomed, too. And criticism is possibly more useful. Always one for useful, me. **

**May the Force Be With You, **

**LMSharp **


	2. Amongst the Dead

**A/N: I wonder sometimes why I have to disclaim something that no one ever had delusions I owned in the first place.**

* * *

I

Amongst the Dead

Silence filled the med bay, consumed it into emptiness. The silence of the dead. All five kolto tanks contained bodies, but they were floating in the Manaan medicine like so much algae. Four men, two on the left, and two on the right. Their faces were blue, and their open eyes stared into nothingness. There was one woman, also, in the very center. Short, but muscular, with scarred hands and a smattering of freckles across her face. Her face was not tinged blue. It was tanned. And while the men drifted in their kolto tanks, already starting to look more like pickled specimens than sentients, she twitched.

_Awaken. _

The twitch became a violent spasm, and Darden Leona opened her eyes. The kolto hit them, stinging, and she flailed her arms. She struggled and arched. Some automated sensor must have caught her distress at last, because the kolto began to drain. The plate glass slid down, and Darden Leona spilled out onto a cold, white, antiseptic floor. She lay there for a while, shivering.

After a moment, she tried to push herself up onto her feet, but her sedated limbs were too heavy and slow to hold her. Kolto glued her long eyelashes together. Darden shook, struggled again, but eventually she succumbed once more to sleep.

A loud, metallic alarm woke her again. Darden Leona sprang to her feet and right into a fighter's stance. She looked around wildly, but there was no one to see. She was alone in the medbay, and the alarm went off, leaving Darden in the eerie silence once more. She relaxed, not fully, but a little. She looked around.

The wary, puzzled expression in Darden Leona's green eyes clearly denoted that she had not the faintest inkling where she was. She did not drop her hands from in front of her face, and the constant readiness for battle spoke of years and years of hard living, and of fear. She licked her lips, and looked at the kolto tanks around her. She went up to one of them, and tapped on the glass. There was no response.

Darden shivered, and she looked down. She wasn't dressed. She was dressed in a relatively modest Republic-issue leotard, but still, the kolto-damp garment was underwear, plain and simple. Darden wrapped her left arm around her chest and frowned, and her right hand clenched and unclenched. She wanted clothes. And a weapon.

Darden Leona didn't panic. She didn't call out, though she did not know where she was, or how she got there. In fact, the last thing Darden could remember was reporting to an entirely different med bay. The one on the Republic vessel called _The Harbinger_. Judging by the lingering effects of sedation in her limbs, her appetite, and the rather pressing need to use the necessary, Darden guessed that she had reported to the Harbinger's med bay some time ago. It could be a few hours. It could be so much as a week. This was concerning. But Darden had lived the past ten years of her life on the Rim and beyond, and before that she had fought in the Mandalorian Wars. She was not one to panic. She was one to coolly assess the situation, form a plan of action, and in the end, she was one to survive, even when hundreds and thousands and millions of others died.

So Darden found the necessary. She relieved herself, stripped, and washed all of her that she could, and her kolto-soaked underwear. She put it on again wet, and ran her fingers through her thick, choppy, short dark hair. And then she shivered again. But it couldn't be helped. She emerged back into the med bay.

The alarm went off again. The same one. Loud, metallic. This time, Darden Leona noted the quality of the sound. It rang out in the metal halls of wherever she was with an undeniable emptiness. Still, she waited, counting the seconds. Sixty. Three-hundred, and still no-one came. Darden swallowed, and supposed she was safe enough, however she had gotten to wherever she was. She was safe enough. For the moment.

Darden left the abandoned med bay and the four unresponsive men drifting in their kolto tanks. The halls were deserted, too. Darden's footsteps fell upon her ears like blows, and the echoes made her jump. Still, despite her nerves, Darden Leona had soon located a computer terminal. It happened to control the med bay functions, and Darden used it to call up the stats on the kolto tanks. She took one look at them, and they only confirmed what she had already suspected. All four men that had been her companions in unconsciousness in this strange place were deceased. Darden punched up the recent treatment.

She swore. The single, ugly word cut viciously through the thick silence. The log read that someone had dispensed a dose of sedatives to all five kolto tanks. One so large that it had killed all the other occupants. It could only mean murder, and Darden knew it was only luck that she hadn't died as well. But she hadn't. Her body had been trained, years ago, to resist that kind of punishment. It was a training she no longer utilized, but it had saved her while she slept, nonetheless.

"Dammit," Darden said again, but quietly, under her breath. A murderer might be listening. And she had no doubt they were looking for her. She had been running from her past for years, trying to leave it in the places beyond civilization, where everything and everyone was as dead as she was inside. It never worked. Her memories always haunted her, and the past always, always caught up. A scrape here, a situation there, she'd lived day to day for ten years.

The _Harbinger_ had sought her out a month or so ago. Except Darden didn't know if it _had_ been a month, now, because she didn't know how long she had been asleep. Anyway, the _Harbinger_ had been ordered to take her back to Republic Space. They had never told her why. But she had known then that her past had caught up with her in the biggest way yet. They had wanted her for her training, for who she had been. She hadn't been happy about it, but she was tired, and she was lonely. And she needed credits. So she'd gone with them. And now she was stuck in the middle of whatever this was.

Darden punched up the holo-logs from the medical terminal. She watched the kind-sounding, dark-skinned medical officer explain what had been happening. And as she watched, she frowned.

The planet was Peragus II, on the Outer Rim. Largely uninhabitable, and primarily of value for the fuel it exported to the Republic. Darden would be in the mining facility that was the only establishment on the planet.

It got worse. Apparently she'd arrived three days ago. She'd been aboard a freighter she couldn't remember—called the _Ebon Hawk_. The name of the ship rang a vague bell in the back of Darden Leona's mind somewhere, but she couldn't recall specifics, so she filed the fact away for future reference and moved on. The _Ebon Hawk_ had floated in to Peragus with only two droids and two organics on board. It had been half-destroyed. The medical officer had no idea how she hadn't been destroyed in the deadly asteroid field that surrounded Peragus II and tore apart any ships without the arrival codes. The medical officer also had no idea how the _Ebon Hawk_ hadn't been destroyed by the shot that seemed to have blown her nearly to pieces. Darden herself had been found unconscious and nearly dead on board. The other organic, also a human woman, _had_ been dead.

According to the medical officer's logs, the miners had had some disagreement about what was to be done with Darden. Somehow, it had been leaked that Darden Leona was a Jedi, or had been, and the Exchange had some sort of bounty out on live Jedi. Some guy named Coorta and his friends had wanted to sell her. The authorities on Peragus hadn't liked that. There had been fighting. Then, there had been problems with the mining droids. Then, there had been explosions in the tunnels. The other patients had been in the med bay for burns obtained in those explosions.

In the last recorded log, the medical officer was cut off. Right after she had yelled that they needed to 'evacuate'.

Darden Leona shut the log down. She tapped her fingers thoughtfully on the top of the console. The alarm rang out again. Darden tensed, but this time she didn't think anyone would come. Something very, very bad had happened here. The whole business stank of sabotage. The long and short of it was that she was in a mining facility in a state of emergency with maybe-rogue droids and maybe-rogue miners. The _Ebon Hawk_ might still be here, but there was no guarantee that the freighter would be spaceworthy, or that there would be another ship at all. And even should she find a suitable ship, she'd need the departure codes to get through the asteroid field and off-planet alive.

Darden Leona had a very logical mind. She made goals. She worked towards solutions in the most straightforward, efficient way possible, ignoring emotions, distractions, and other irrelevancies. So she made a goal. She decided in the terminal room where the med bay was controlled, that the first thing to do was to find supplies and weapons. The next thing to do was to get her bearings. And eventually, she would get off Peragus II.

So Darden turned around and went to the plasteel cylinder in the corner of the room. Without any hesitation whatsoever she opened it and took out the big empty leather bag and the medpac inside. She pulled out a couple of computer spikes and a plasma torch as well, and she grinned. _A weapon. _At the very bottom of the barrel, she saw two little energy bars. It was better than she had expected. Food, too.

She unwrapped one and started to munch. As she ate, she made her way out of the computer room and over to the morgue. She didn't know if the medical officer had had time to strip the two corpses she'd seen using the med bay camera before evacuation, but on the off-chance that she hadn't, they might have valuable equipment.

Darden Leona entered the morgue. The bodies were there, lying out on slabs. One of them, a man dressed in a mining uniform, had started to smell. The other was an old woman in a brown robe. Darden stopped by her. This had been the woman mentioned in the log, her companion in the _Ebon Hawk_ upon arrival. Darden had never seen her before in her life. She had been old—definitely over sixty. Maybe over seventy. Harsh wrinkles lined her mouth and brow. They spoke of a woman that had thought and frowned more than she had smiled and laughed, of a woman that had been very angry, and experienced much sorrow. Darden touched the old lady's hand. It was pale and cold and waxy. The woman wasn't breathing. She was very definitely dead. Darden nodded grimly.

Shame, that. She would have liked to ask the old woman how in hell she had ended up on the _Ebon Hawk_, instead of on the _Harbinger_. But it couldn't be helped now.

Darden turned her attention to the barrels of stuff in the corners of the morgue. The dead man, too, looked like he might have something in his pockets. Darden wrinkled her nose, but approached him nonetheless. Beggars could not be choosers, in mining facilities where everything seemed to be going wrong.

The dry, low voice that spoke then almost stopped Darden's heart. "Find what you are looking for amongst the dead?"

Darden whirled, readying her plasma torch. The dead woman had sat up on her slab. Darden's heart raced, and she stared. But the dead woman made no move to attack her. Darden took a deep breath in, and then breathed out. Her breath rasped and rattled. "You frightened me," she said shakily to the dead woman. "I could've sworn you were dead."

There hadn't been any rotting smell around her, Darden thought belatedly, though according to the holo-records she'd have been dead longer than the miner.

"Close to death, yes," the woman croaked. "Closer than I'd like. You have the smell of the kolto tank about you. How do you feel?" She stood up.

Darden shivered. It had nothing to do with the fact that she was still clad only in her underwear. "How do _I_ feel? You were _dead_! Who are you? What do you want with me?"

The woman had been hooded on the slab. She was still hooded now. Darden couldn't make out her eyes from underneath the hood. She could only see the woman's pale, withered cheeks, and her wrinkled brown lips that were the color of dry blood. Those lips tightened in disapproval now. "I am Kreia," the woman said. "And I am your rescuer—as you are mine. Tell me—do you recall what happened?"

Darden's fingers tightened around her plasma torch. Kreia hadn't answered the question. And it remained to be seen what exactly Kreia had rescued her from. Darden was still very frightened. And fear can make people angry. So Darden Leona adjusted her stance and glared. "If you don't mind, I'll ask the questions for now," She snapped. "How did I get here?"

There was a faint movement from Kreia's shoulders that suggested a shrug. "I confess I know little more than you do…I do not know where 'here' is. I do recall rescuing you—the Republic ship you were on was attacked, and you were the only survivor. A result of your Jedi training, no doubt."

If Darden had not been suspicious at once, she definitely was now. Who was this woman? "This is Peragus II," she told her. "We're in the mining facility. You know a little too much about me, Kreia. If that is your name. Darden's mine, but I think you know that."

Kreia inclined her head ever-so-slightly.

"I'm not a Jedi. I'm not in the Order anymore."

Kreia's lips curved up. "Your stance, your walk tells me you are a Jedi," she said simply. "Your walk is heavy. You carry something that weighs you down."

Force, Darden felt like she was talking to a corpse, and not just because three minutes ago Kreia had been one. She shifted. At least one thing was becoming apparent. Kreia was some sort of Jedi herself. It occurred to Darden that that might explain the 'death'. Jedi had techniques they could use to preserve themselves from death, deep trances that might appear at first glance to be death themselves. So she jerked her head. "Let's not talk about that. Let's deal with what the hell is going on right now, shall we?" She didn't let Kreia answer. "Excellent. Why are we here?"

Kreia seemed uneasy. "I do not know. I was removed from the events of the world as I slept. A survey of the surroundings may provide the answers we seek. The ship we arrived in must still be in this place. We should recover it and leave."

"The _Ebon Hawk_," Darden said flatly. "The medical officer's log says it was wasted, but I want to know why you're referring to 'we'. I don't know you, Kreia. I have only your word for it that you rescued me from the _Harbinger—_I don't remember. So I would like to know why you think we're in this together, please."

Kreia sighed, and her legs buckled just a bit. She sat back down on the slab where she had been laying. "We were attacked once, and I fear our attackers will not give up the hunt so easily—without transport, weapons, and information, they will find us very easy prey indeed," she said.

Darden lost her temper. "You haven't answered the question!" she snapped. Kreia opened her mouth, but she was getting paler by the second. She was trembling. Darden felt sorry immediately.

"No," she interrupted Kreia. "It's fine. You were dead, or so close to it I couldn't tell the difference. And friend or foe, I can't just leave you here, can I? But you're nervous. You're really nervous. Why?"

Kreia shifted. "Even as I slept, I felt much unrest here—"she croaked. "I saw strange visions, minds colored with fear—now, everything feels terribly silent. I would find out as much as you can about this place quickly—I fear we will need to depart as suddenly as we arrived."

Her hand quivered, and Darden sighed. "And you're not up to helping me dig around for transport, weapons, and information, are you? You're too weak. Okay. Fine. I'll go look for the ship we got here on—and weapons."

Darden couldn't see Kreia's eyes, but she got the impression that Kreia looked her up and down. The old mouth quirked. "You may wish to extend your search to some clothes," she said drily, "If only for proper first impressions."

Darden smiled a little. Then she nodded, and turned to go. But right before she left the morgue, she stopped. "Um…Kreia? The patients in the medical bay were killed by a lethal dose of sedatives. Any idea how it happened?"

Kreia shook her head. "I do not know—why did they spare you?"

Darden grimaced. "They didn't. I got the same dose. But I survived."

Kreia seemed pleased. "Indeed. A Jedi trance could protect one from such poisons. In fact, the sedatives may have been intended to keep you unconscious for some time. It would prove lethal to those untrained in such techniques, however. Most curious."

Darden was taken aback. Curious? Four men had died! And _how_ did Kreia know about her Jedi training? She stared at the old woman. "Who are you?" she said, very quietly. "How do you know so much about Jedi techniques? You used one, didn't you? To survive whatever happened on the _Hawk_?"

Kreia's wrinkled mouth quirked. "Perhaps we could discuss it at length later on—"she said. It was not an answer, but it was almost a promise of a future answer, which was the most direct response Darden had gotten thus far out of the old woman. "Now we have other concerns—among them, finding our new enemy."

Darden sighed. "So, perhaps, when I get back from investigating this place you'll actually answer when I ask you a question?"

"I have found that answers come in their own time, not ours," Kreia replied levelly. "Turn your energy to the matter at hand—if we cannot find a way out of here, the answers will prove useless anyway."

Darden blinked, and nodded. "You have a point there, at least," she admitted. She looked at Kreia, pale and trembling with the effort of remaining upright. "You'll be alright, won't you?" she asked. "Take care. I'll be back soon."

Kreia inclined her head wearily. "I leave you to the explorations of this place. Here I will remain and attempt to center myself." She took up a meditation pose as Darden left the morgue.

Definitely a Jedi. Darden was in a whole heap of trouble, and only some of it had to do with a mining facility in a state of emergency. It occurred to Darden as she started down the abandoned corridors that Kreia was attempting to center herself in the morgue. Darden hadn't found anything she needed amongst the dead. She wondered if Kreia would, and the thought that she might was disturbing.

* * *

**A/N: And so it begins! Tell me what you think of my narration, I'm not sure I've quite established the right tone. **

**You'll see the difference in narration most in scenes where Darden isn't present. At any rate, I'm trying to go for a more omniscient-y feel, but it's important NOT to get inside of Kreia's head. You see her through the shadows, and through the impact she has upon others. **

**As far as Kreia goes, I don't think I've ever hated a video game character more. I hate her so much it will be a positive joy to write about her infamy. -I'm not going to bash, don't worry. I'll be fair. But her brand of manipulation makes me want to rip her wrinkled old face off. **

**If you enjoyed this chapter, or if you think you know something I could do to improve it, or future installments, drop me a review. Much appreciated!**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp. **


	3. Off the Anesthetic

**Disclaimer: Rights to those who have earned them by original creativity. That does not include me.**

* * *

II

Off the Anesthetic

The halls of Peragus II were every bit as deserted as they had sounded. Deserted of organics, that is. Of droids, Darden soon found that there were plenty. And like she had suspected, they were malfunctioning and hostile.

There were corpses littered here and there throughout the empty halls. The whole place stunk of death. There were pools of dried blood beneath the corpses where they had been gunned down by the mining lasers the droids were equipped with. Some had broken bones from where the droids had tried to "mine" them. Darden tried not to think much of how they had suffered and died as she searched the bodies. She soon found a vibroblade and a mining laser to add to her weapons collection. She stuffed the plasma torch and vibroblade in her bag and kept the mining laser in-hand. In her underwear, it was best not to get too close to the droids.

Darden followed the course of the corridor, opening doors and manually "disabling" droids that attacked, until she came to something that looked like the emergency hatch to the turbolift. She could use it to get to another level, maybe find out more of what had happened, or find the _Ebon Hawk_. But the door was locked.

Darden pulled on the handle, but the door was magnetically sealed. She couldn't hack it, either. Darden frowned. In an emergency like this, she should have been able to utilize the lift to escape. Something, or someone, had locked her in.

Just then, a consciousness touched Darden's mind. Darden's eyes opened wide, and Kreia's rasping, dry voice sounded in her head.

_"This is the exit…but it is sealed…strange. In my visions, it was open."_

The contact hurt. The voice made Darden shudder. She'd been alone in her head for _years. _How could Kreia…?

Tentatively, Darden extended her own thoughts back to the morgue, trying to touch Kreia's consciousness. There was no answer.

Darden Leona was unnerved, but she didn't have time to be. So she took three deep breaths, and pressed on. In the next room, she found another terminal. This one had belonged to security. Darden accessed it easily enough and called up the logs.

She was able to establish that this was the administration level of the Peragus Mining Facility, and affirm her suspicions about sabotage. The trouble had started with the droids shortly after she had arrived. They had been causing the detonations in the ventilation tunnels. They had been attacking the organics here. Someone had tampered with them. The security officer had suspected Coorta and his cronies. There was a record of him chewing out the maintenance officer for the problems with the droids. He'd gotten paranoid towards the end—maybe yesterday, or the day before. He'd secured a stealth field generator in the next room in preparation for an escape, and he'd locked down the holding cells to protect someone, or to make sure that if he caught the culprit, they couldn't escape.

The entry concerning the holding cells interested Darden. She brought up the cameras, and selected the one trained on the prison. And she grinned. There was someone alive on this rock with her and Kreia. Relief coursed through her. There was a man locked in an energy cell in the holding area. She couldn't make out his features very well, except to ascertain that he was tall, broad-shouldered, and dark-haired.

The original relief abated a little as it occurred to Darden that it wasn't necessarily a good thing that the only other person on Peragus she knew for certain was alive was in prison. The man could be anyone. He could be an enemy. She tried to access information on him from the terminal. Was it Coorta or one of his friends? What was he in there for? How long had he been there? But there was no record on him. Darden considered for a moment, and then made up her mind.

It wasn't much good trying to get off Peragus II by herself with a feeble old woman that had been dead a quarter of an hour ago, she thought. She could play it safe and leave the maybe-criminal in the cells to starve, or she could take a risk that he'd be grateful enough to get out to help her get away. Darden nodded, and gripped her mining laser more tightly. She'd have to "disable" all the droids on the level before she could access the holding area. It had been in the security officer's log. Best get on it, she thought.

She went to the door, and Kreia touched her mind again. This time, though the old woman's voice in her head still caught her off guard, it didn't hurt.

"_Be careful…there is much energy in the room beyond…yet it stems from nothing that lives."_

Darden jumped on the tendril of thought and followed it back to the consciousness that was its source. _"Kreia?" _she asked telepathically, unsure, after all this time that she was doing this correctly. _"How the hell are you in my head? "_

It wasn't so much indignation at the invasion, though there was that, Darden thought, as incredulity that she could even manage this anymore. Kreia didn't answer, though Darden could feel her acknowledgment of Darden's presence on the other end of their mental link. Instead, she said, _"Can you not sense them? Reach out…cast aside your sight, cast aside what you see, and instead, reach out with your perceptions…"_

Darden Leona, without thinking about it, did so. And she was amazed when she actually felt something. She let out an involuntary gasp, half pain.

She felt Kreia's satisfaction resound inside her mind. _"Ah…you can feel them…the droids you cannot perceive, but the small oscillations of energy…that you can feel…echoing outwards…"_

Darden could sense the energy beyond the door. There it was, vibrating faintly, like a hum at the edge of hearing. Droids, Kreia said? But around them, around the station, she could feel currents, life. Faint. Most of what she could feel were old echoes of people and energy and things that had been. She knew what this was, though it had been ten years.

Darden gasped with the pain of the sudden sensation. It was like the first breath of air after nearly drowning slices the lungs like a knife. It was like the light after the pitch blackness blinds. It was like the sound after the silence deafens. She fell to her knees in front of the door and wrapped her arms around herself.

"_Ah—you hear it. It is faint…but it is there," _Kreia said to her mind, quite calmly.

"_What's happening to me? What are you doing?" _

"_It is the Force you feel…it is not been so long as for you to forget it." _

Darden felt a brief surge of annoyance. Of _course_ it was the Force! She knew that much. Knew it like she had never known anything in her life. But she'd been blind to it for so long…"_It's been ten years,"_ she impressed upon Kreia. _"It hurts…feeling it again. I don't know….I'd forgotten what it felt like."_

"_Do not turn away from it. Listen…feel it echoing within you. Come—I shall guide you down the familiar paths—you will need it if we are to survive and escape this place."_

Darden opened herself to the Force then, greedily, like a starving woman before a feast. She took a deep breath in. She breathed out again. It was Kreia. It had to be. She hadn't seen another Jedi in ten years, much less felt or used the Force. The old woman had done something to her, and for the first time in a decade, she could hear the heartbeat of the universe, though it was still so faint. She smiled then, and climbed to her feet. The pain was abating, and she could still feel the droids beyond the door. She clutched her mining laser and opened her bag to withdraw an ion grenade she'd found on a corpse.

It was game time, and she was more ready than she'd been in ten years. She sent a thought Kreia's way—gratitude, and a question. Why was she doing this? Kreia did not reply.

Darden did not hear from the old woman again until she had cleared the entire level and stood before the door to the prison. She frowned, looking down at herself. She still was in her underwear. She considered maybe going back to one of the bodies—she had always been a very modest woman. But she didn't fancy smelling of rotting corpse, to be honest.

Kreia touched her mind again. _"Ah—beyond this door someone yet lives…be mindful…his thoughts are…difficult to read…but you have nothing to fear from this one…and he might yet prove useful." _

Darden sent an affirming thought back towards Kreia. For some reason, the old woman's mind had felt puzzled, even a little nervous, when speaking of the man in the cells. It didn't worry Darden much, though. She had no intention of just letting down her guard with a man in jail after what had happened here. She keyed the door open.

For a moment, the man in the energy cell just stared at the woman that had entered. She was carrying a mining laser, but she was barefoot, bareheaded, and half-naked. The prisoner blinked. The woman had actually entered the holding area in her underwear. _Nice_ body, he thought. Short. Solid, but nicely shaped. Well-rounded in all the right places. What in hell was she doing here like _that_? What in heaven, rather, he added to himself. The prisoner started to grin.

Darden stared back at the man in the energy cell, fighting back a blush. He was a lot better looking than he'd seemed on camera. About her age, or maybe a little bit younger. He wasn't a miner, or at least hadn't been on duty when he'd been captured. He was wearing civilian clothes. He had thick, dark hair, and dark blue eyes. And those eyes weren't shy. He looked her up and down, and began to grin. "Nice outfit. What? You miners change regulation uniforms while I've been in here?"

Darden kept blushing, but now she was angry, not embarrassed. "I didn't fancy robbing a three-day-old _corpse_ to find clothes," she snapped. "_My_ things are gone, and there doesn't seem to be anyone _alive_ to ask for clothing. No one except you. So. Eyes up, if you please, and tell me who you are."

The grin left the man's face. "Atton," he replied. "Atton Rand. Excuse me if I don't shake hands. The field only causes mild electrical burns."

So at least it wasn't Coorta. Darden jerked her head. "And why are you in here, if you don't mind?"

Atton Rand shrugged. "Security claimed I violated some trumped-up regulation or another—take it up with them if you want, but they stopped listening to me shortly before they stopped feeding me. Now that's criminal."

Darden frowned. "They probably stopped feeding you because everyone's dead," she told him. "At least, they are as far as I can tell. Do you know what happened?"

Atton grimaced. "You mean, before or after that Jedi showed up? Either way, it's a real short story. You see, this Jedi shows up, and you know what that means—where there's one Jedi, the Republic will be crawling up your ion engine in no time.

"But the story gets better," Atton continued. "See—some of the miners get it into their ferrocrete skulls that since the Jedi's unconscious, they can collect the bounty the Exchange has posted for live Jedi. Well, what passes for the law here didn't like that idea, so the two groups started fighting. Then there was some big explosion, I was sitting here for a long time, then you showed up in your underwear and things got a lot better."

He winked at her. Darden thought for a long moment. Atton wasn't a miner. She knew that much. He sounded more like he'd been a freelance freighter. A pilot. Someone that shipped the fuel Peragus mined someplace else, anyway. He'd broken the rules, and been chucked in the cells right before all this had gone down. She still didn't know if she could trust him. While he sounded like he wasn't a big fan of the Exchange or selling her to them, he also clearly disliked Jedi and the Republic. And he was acting like being chucked in an energy cell for a security violation while a mining facility fell down around his ears was no big deal.

Ironically, that last thing was what made Darden most inclined to trust him. This was a bad situation, and Atton Rand was not panicking. So she looked up at him. "Keep the testosterone in check if you possibly can, will you?" she said, but not as harshly as she had before. She was in her underwear, after all. She couldn't really blame the man. "Tell me about the bounty on captured Jedi. What's up with that?"

Atton shrugged again. "I don't know much about it," he told her. "Maybe the Exchange wants one as a trophy, or somebody's got something against Jedi and is looking to collect. Not many Jedi left…wouldn't surprise me if the bounty's pretty high."

Darden looked hard at him. Not many Jedi left? That would explain a lot of things, she thought. Why the Republic had come to look for _her _on the Rim, for one. "What happened to the Jedi?" she asked quietly.

Atton raised an eyebrow, but answered easily. "The ones that weren't killed in the Jedi Civil War ended up switching off the lightsabers long ago. Word is, there's not even a Jedi Council anymore—but who knows?"

Darden Leona was assailed by a perverse sense of loss. She didn't understand it. The Jedi and the Jedi Council had never done anything for her. Quite the opposite. But still…she bit her lip. "Oh." Her voice was small. Smaller than she wanted it to be. She cleared her throat. "The war. I'd heard about it, but I didn't believe it had really gotten that bad. The Jedi fought themselves?"

Atton shook his head in disbelief and looked at her like she was some kind of idiot. "Yeah. Revan, Malak, and the Jedi that went to join them in the Mandalorian Wars. They turned against the other Jedi and had a scrap that almost laid waste to the galaxy. Heh. Where have you been?"

Darden looked away from Atton Rand and his mockery. "I've been away. Since the Mandalorian Wars. Leave it at that."

"Sure," Atton said glibly. "Well, I wasn't there, but like all Sith, Revan and Malak turned on each other. After they turned on the Jedi, of course."

Darden looked up sharply. "Now that's a lie," she snapped. There'd been a conversation with two men out on the Rim, three years ago. She remembered it vividly; because it had been the best news she'd had of the galaxy in a decade. "I haven't been back in things for long, but I do know that whatever happened after the Mandalorian Wars, Revan did the right thing in the end. Some kid told me the only reason Malak didn't burn the galaxy was because Revan stopped him."

Darden remembered the kid's words, and those of his "Master", though the pair had talked more like a grandfather and grandson than a Jedi Master and Padawan. Both had known Revan personally. The old man had been there with her, at the end of the Jedi Civil War five years ago.

Atton shifted and made a face. "I guess…" he conceded. "There's rumors all over space about it. All I heard was Revan returned to pay Malak back for trying to kill her in the first place. You know women."

Darden stared hard at Atton again. She hadn't mentioned Revan was a woman. It wasn't common knowledge. During the Mandalorian Wars and after, Revan had tried to maintain a sexless image. She'd always worn that mask, and that long, loose black robe. She'd explained to Darden once.

"_Better to be a presence than a person, General,"_ she'd said. _"A face, a woman, can be beaten. An idea is much more difficult to kill." _

Darden herself had only seen Revan's face once, on Coruscant, so long ago she didn't remember what Revan had looked like. Maybe the truth had come out at the end of the Jedi Civil War, but judging from what Darden had heard on the _Harbinger_, and judging from Atton's talk of rumors, it hadn't. Yet Atton sounded so positive about Revan's sex.

Slowly, Darden replied, "I heard that in the end, she had no choice but to fight him. Some weirdness went down on this _Star Forge_, or something."

"Well I wasn't there, thankfully," Atton said a bit too quickly. "But I heard what she was like during the Mandalorian Wars, and it sounded like she was quick to wipe out anyone who crossed her. Dark Jedi are bad enough, but when a woman falls to the Dark Side…" he whistled. "You better space yourself before they catch you." Belatedly, Atton seemed to realize how he sounded. "Uh…no offense or anything," he added awkwardly.

Darden rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Well. I won't fry you for a sexist pig today, because so far you're the only person I've met in this facility that's consistently alive and seems ready enough to talk."

Atton stopped short. He looked at Darden. "_Consistently_ alive?" he inquired.

Darden wasn't ready to tell him about Kreia yet. She still didn't understand what was happening, and she couldn't be sure the old woman wasn't listening in. It was all too new, to raw. Instead, she felt out for Atton with the Force. She felt his presence, but little more than that. And she said, with wonder not directed at him, "I don't get it, either." Then she took a breath and drew herself up. "Anyway, the point is that I need your help. I need to know what happened here."

Atton rolled his eyes. "Look. Not like your half-naked interrogation isn't a personal fantasy of mine, but…" he cut himself off in the middle of his smart-aleck remark. His blue eyes focused on Darden abruptly, with absolutely none of the idiocy he had displayed up to that point. "Hey, wait a minute—you're that Jedi the miners were talking about!" he accused her. "You tell me what happened here!"

Darden spread her arms wide. "You think I know? I woke up in a kolto tank an hour ago. Since then I have seen about a dozen corpses and half a dozen hostile mining droids. You were awake. You must have seen something."

Atton spread his arms so his posture mirrored her own. "From my beautiful view in this security cage? Look, I heard some explosions, some emergency alarms, some toxic gas pouring out of the vents…Maybe none of them survived whatever happened, and if they're all gone…" he paled a moment, and then said hurriedly, "Look, hey, let me out, and I can help you. I can. I've gotten out of trouble countless times."

Darden's mouth quirked. Now that she believed. "And you're treating incarceration like a matter of rather dull routine. Yes. I see. Tell me your plan, and we'll see how I'm feeling then."

"This facility isn't a military instigation," Atton said immediately. "That means we may have a chance. You shut down this security field and I can reroute the emergency systems so we can get to the hangars. We grab a ship and then we fly out of here."

Darden walked over to the panel. But before she flipped the switch, a sudden misgiving seized her heart. She turned to Atton. "Before I flip this switch—the patients in the med bay were killed with a lethal dose of sedatives. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?'

Atton looked back at her, genuine confusion on his face. "Huh? What are you talking about?"

Darden smiled. "Good. Never mind." She flipped the switch. "The name's Darden Leona, by the way. I'm not actually a Jedi. I was…I'm not anymore."

Atton walked out of his cell. "Thanks…Darden. We done with the interrogations here?"

Darden nodded. "Yeah. We're done." She opened her pack and tossed him her other energy bar.

He snagged it out of the air easily and had the wrapper off in less than a second. He took three bites before he swallowed and beckoned to Darden. "Again…thanks. To business. Let's get to the command console."

Darden nodded, and he led her outside the prison and straight to the command console before the big window to the mining facility. He accessed it, and explained what he was doing to her between bites of energy bar. "Now, this console is set on automatic hail. You may have heard it when you came in."

Darden laughed mirthlessly. "No, actually. Unconscious on a ship I don't remember boarding."

Atton laughed. "Bad night at the cantina? Anyway, the asteroid drift charts are constantly being updated, so it sends out transmissions to incoming vessels so they don't get crushed into space dust. The hail warns them to keep their distance until orbital drift charts are transmitted, and then provides docking instructions to incoming ships…usually freighters." He grinned and punched a few buttons. "Thing is, you can bounce that same transmission back to the comm here…and suddenly you've got access to the communications system from the inside." He punched two more buttons. "Pure pazaak…the console's ours. Now all we need to do is reactivate the turbolifts, cancel the emergency lockdown…" he stopped. "Hey!"

Darden had been watching Atton work, half-impressed, half-wary that her new colleague seemed to be some kind of slicer, or used to crime, at any rate. She stiffened now. She knew an obstacle when she heard one. "What?"

Atton slammed his hand down on the console. "This system's been severed from the main hub—" he said, annoyed. "After it was locked down from remote. You can't even reroute the system, it's been cut clean."

Darden nodded grimly. "Not standard lockdown procedure. You know it's sabotage."

Atton nodded. His eyes glinted angrily. "Yeah—someone tried to lock down this whole level tight and leave us here. Trapped."

"There's always a way out of a trap, Atton," Darden said calmly. "Is there anything else we can do with this console?"

Atton snorted. "I doubt it. All we have is communications back, for all the good trying to shout in a vacuum will do us."

Darden pursed her lips. "I guess we could try to contact the miners."

Atton looked at her, and then at her mining laser. "We could try," he said doubtfully. "But if the miners were trying to trap you up here and probably kill you, why not call them up and chat? I don't think a friendly call is going to wake them up."

Darden shrugged, more bravely than she felt. "Might be able to find something out, though. There might be a log in the terminal, too. Something that can help us."

Atton swept his hand towards the console and stepped aside. "Be my guest—not much else we can do. The comm's all yours."

Darden went forward to the console and spread her fingers above it. She smiled. She could feel the hum of energy in the computer. She could feel the things it did, the impulses it had sent and received across the galaxy. After years and years of sleep, she was finally awake. She called up the station commander's logs. There wasn't much new there—she'd arrived three days ago, problems with the miners, the mystery of the _Ebon Hawk—_Darden stopped. The commander was talking about the droids that had been aboard the _Ebon Hawk_ when it had landed. The protocol droid had gone to work in maintenance. As in, droid maintenance. That was _highly_ interesting, Darden thought. The log shut off, and Darden accessed the comm, trying to call out to the dormitories. There was no reply.

Atton looked at her. "No answer? Yeah. How much you want to bet whatever's happened here's happened there, too, sweetheart?"

"There's a comm in the hangar, too," she said. "We're not giving up. And my name is Darden, Atton. If you can't call me that, then shut up."

"Ouch," Atton said, grimacing mockingly. "I didn't mean…"

Darden ignored him. She was already trying to contact the hangar. "Is anyone there? Can you read me?"

The comm crackled to life, and Darden heard a low series of beeps and whirs. Astromech. She looked at Atton, a bit smugly. "Who's there? Come in!"

The beeping came in more clearly, and Darden knew the droid had approached the comm. She was happy she'd had the sense to learn astromech in the Mandalorian Wars. The droid identified himself as a T3-M4 expert utility droid. Darden recognized the designation.

"You're the utility droid they found on the _Ebon Hawk_. I'm Darden Leona. T3-M4, are you operational?"

"Really. A droid. You're going to pin our escape plan on some beeping bucket of bolts?" Atton demanded. Darden shot him a glare over her shoulder.

T3-M4 was beeping affirmatively and asking how he could serve.

"We're trapped on the administration level," Darden told him. "Can you unlock the turbolifts?"

There was silence from the droid's terminal, and then he trilled a negative response.

Darden bit back a curse. "Okay," she murmured. "Sabotage. Right. Is there some other way out of here besides the turbolifts?"

There was a pause while her little droid colleague in the hangar accessed the station maps. Then he beeped tentatively. Apparently he could access an emergency hatch that could get her to the mining tunnels. From there she could make her way through to the fuel depot and the hangar. But the tunnels would be superheated, T3-M4 warned, and volatile due to the detonations down there. He wasn't sure he'd like to go down there, and she, as an organic, was much more fragile.

Darden looked at Atton. She didn't tell him what the droid had said. She didn't want to get his hopes up. T3 said he couldn't access the emergency hatch from his current location, anyway. He'd need to go to the terminal in the fuel depot, and there might be more rogue droids in his way. Better to wait and see if the droid could manage it to tell Atton and Kreia of a possible escape.

She nodded. "Hmm. Okay. I'll risk it. Better that than to be trapped up here until we all starve to death. Go for it, T3-M4. We're counting on you. Signing off."

"What are we risking, now?" Atton asked, folding his arms.

"I'll tell you if it works," Darden said. She leaned up against the console, feeling the energy running through it, feeling the Force. And she began to wait.

* * *

**A/N: Enter Atton. I'm not sure quite what to think of Atton Rand. Sure, he's immature, captain of the Innuendos, and has a back story darker than Carth Onasi's, but I just **_**can't **__**hate**_**him. I think it's because he **_**is**_** a fool. He's a well-intentioned fool that sold out to the wrong side and didn't realize it until he was neck-deep in the dark and had learned to like it. But he gets points from me for the bravery he showed in getting out. It can't have been easy. Nor could it have been easy to turn it completely around like he does if you play LS Exile. **

**Playing TSL, I feel like I shouldn't trust Atton, and I shouldn't like him. But I do, so my Exile does. Or she will, later, after she realizes he's not just a semi-creepy criminal-type. Yeah…Disciple/Exile fans: you have been warned. **

**Leave me a review and tell me how you think I'm doing! **

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp**


	4. Not All Droids are Good

**Disclaimer: Not all of us are clever enough to create video games and make piles of credits. Those of us who aren't, write fanfiction.**

* * *

III

Not All Droids are Good

A utility droid's function is to fix things. So with the alarm ringing out all over the Peragus Mining facility, and a nice woman and her not-so-nice friend stranded behind malfunctioning doors on the administration level, the little astromech on the hangar level, designation T3-M4, was in his element. He had fixed the _Ebon Hawk_ so it could land here and the nice woman had survived because of it. Saving her made his behavior core whir with pride. He remembered doing things like this before with his master, before they had gotten separated. If he helped the nice woman now, she might help him get back to his master.

T3-M4 inspected the terminal he had received her transmission from. His sensors informed him that he would need it to access the _Ebon Hawk, _or the fuel depot here. He could not open the emergency hatch to the mining tunnels like she had asked him to do from his current location, but the blueprints he was downloading from the terminal suggested that he might be able to do so from another computer in the fuel depot. The open-door function was malfunctioning on the terminal though for both doors. T3-M4 could fix it easily, but first he would need to find parts.

T3-M4 beeped in satisfaction, happy to be following his primary function, happy to be serving again. It had been a long time. He rolled off on his treads to find parts that he could use to repair the hangar terminal. The logs he had downloaded told him that other droids had already made repairs to the _Ebon Hawk_ beyond what he had done. She could fly again. That ought to please Darden Leona and her companion. T3-M4 hoped that Darden would not find it necessary to bring the male when they left here. He was mean.

The level seemed to be abandoned. It did not bother the utility droid much. He could better serve his purpose without interference from stupid organics that would not understand what he was trying to do. Teethree quickly located several caches of parts and tools. It was, after all, the hangar wing.

Once or twice, a couple of mining droids tried to detain him. But they were very poor conversationalists. Teethree could not explain his mission to them, and when they were unsatisfied, they actually tried to disable him. Teethree could not have that, so he disabled them instead. He did not look it, but he was actually better equipped for combat than many war droids. His old master had made sure of that. Teethree felt an emptiness in his core. He missed her. His old master had understood droids better than most. She had always taken the time to upgrade him, or just to ask how he was operating. She had taken him with her when she had left many other companions behind. It was not much. Teethree was perfectly aware he was still just a utility droid. But he appreciated the effort she had made anyway.

Teethree left the wreckage of the mining droids smoking where it lay. A utility droid's function was to fix things. Except when the things in question were inefficiently attempting to break other things. And then, sometimes, a utility droid's function was to break things.

T3-M4 returned to the hangar computer. He repaired the door functions as easily as he had anticipated. But he had not anticipated that the actual power conduit for the door that led to the _Ebon Hawk_ had burned out. He would have to replace it before Darden Leona could get to the ship. He would look for one of those. But at any rate he could access the fuel depot terminal and fulfill her primary directive now.

Teethree rolled into the fuel depot. His sensors picked up strange containment fields cutting off his half of the fuel depot—the half connecting to the hangar—from the other half. The station blueprints informed Teethree that that half of the depot connected to the turbolifts from the mining tunnels and the administration level. In the back of his processor, Teethree started to consider how best to solve this new aspect of the problem as he rolled towards the terminal.

He accessed the computer, and almost immediately the console told him in her high-pitched "voice" that a phantom fuel leak had been raised in the depot to activate the containment fields, which could only be overridden with access codes Teethree did not possess. He started running possible code sequences and singing them to the computer immediately, but simultaneously he activated the emergency hatch that would get Darden Leona to the mining tunnels like she had asked. And then, just before T3-M4 cracked the code and got past the containment field, his auditory sensors picked up steps behind him. He turned so his visual sensors could pick up his companion in the fuel depot, and then the stun ray hit him, and he shut down.

* * *

Atton Rand was making Darden uncomfortable. She'd been prepared for a not-so-savory character just out of jail. She'd even been prepared for one or two comments on her state of undress. But then she had expected the man she'd sprung from prison to realize their desperate situation, and either in gratitude to her or equal desire to get off Peragus to shut his mouth and get on with helping her escape.

Atton…hadn't. Nor had he shut his eyes. He was just sitting there against the window, waiting for T3-M4 to open a door. Darden didn't blame him for that. It was the best plan she had, too. But he kept _talking. _About stupid, irrelevant things like different rule sets for Pazaak and…and _her_. What she was doing there, like she knew. What her favorite _color_ was. And then he just kept _staring_, both at her face and much lower, with that stupid little half smile on his face.

After the first ten minutes, Darden was very on edge, and halfway wishing she'd left him back in his cell. And then he came out with another question. Laying back against the observation window with his hands behind his head he asked, "So…uh, how long have you been a Jedi? Must be tough, you know…no family, no husband."

Darden snapped. She rounded on him and smiled her brightest, fakest smile. "Actually, the toughest thing about it is dealing with clumsy come-ons disguised as false sympathy from idiots. And I'm not a Jedi, Atton. I told you. Not anymore. So…just stop, okay? I haven't pried into how you ended up here or what you were doing before Peragus. So stick to what's relevant, please. And keep your eyes to yourself." She fidgeted in spite of herself, turning away.

Atton smiled and held his hands up innocently. "Hey, I wasn't trying to…" the console beeped, and at once he stood up. "Hey, what do you know? That little cargo cylinder came through."

Darden stood up, too, relieved to have something to focus on again. She came up next to Atton and he moved out of her way with exaggerated motions. She glared at him. The level plan now indicated that the emergency hatch to the mining tunnels had been opened, but when Darden activated the comm, there was no response. She frowned. "He came through, all right. But what's happened to him? Why didn't he contact us on the comm?"

Atton shrugged. "If he got the turbolifts working then we should have a clear run to the hangar."

Darden shifted. Here came the snag. "Yeah, well, it couldn't be that easy, could it?" Atton focused on her abruptly, and Darden smiled ruefully. "T3-M4 told me when I first got in touch that fixing the turbolifts would be a no-go. They're locked down manually. I had him open the emergency hatch."

Atton's eyes widened. "Wait, wait, don't tell me you're taking that hatch down into the mining tunnels…are you? That explosion I heard came from below. There's probably nothing down there except superheated rock and collapsed blast tunnels. You'd be an idiot to go down there."

Darden sighed. "There is always, always another way out of a trap. But no-one said it's always easy." She gave Atton a little finger wave. "Hello, Atton. My name is Darden Leona, and sometimes, when I don't have a choice, I can be a bit of an idiot."

Atton opened his mouth to argue. Darden cut him off. "Look. You want out, don't you? If we go down there, we can find an alternate route into the fuel depot, or maybe even into the hangar. Then we can do lots of things. Here we're stuck. But, if you like, you can stay up here." She thought about it. "Actually, it's probably better that way. If I go down there and you stay up here, if something happens to me, you've still got a chance to get out."

Atton looked hard at her. He was silent for a moment. "You're either really brave or really crazy—or both," he said finally. "All right—I'll try to monitor things from up here. Be careful—the only thing moving down there is likely to be mining droids, so don't be playing hero too hard." He paused, and if Darden hadn't been trained to notice such things she wouldn't have seen the very, very tips of his ears turn pink. "Uh…not that I care what happens to you or anything. I just don't want to be trying to get off this rock by myself."

Darden blinked. "Your concern is noted," she said, slowly. "I'll go now." She felt more than a little bit awkward, but she wasn't quite as annoyed as she had been two minutes ago.

She grabbed her bag and gripped her mining laser and turned to go.

"Hey," Atton said. She turned, just in time to see him throw something at her. She caught it easily. "I'll keep the com-link open," he promised. "I may be able to guide you through the tunnels from up here. Don't know if the signal will hold if you get too deep, though."

Darden nodded and walked off towards the emergency hatch Teethree had opened for her. Maybe she was glad she let him out of jail, after all. At any rate, Kreia hadn't said a thing to her since she'd found him, and she was glad she wasn't alone.

She got into the emergency lift and activated it. It took her down, down, below the administration level and to the tunnels. Darden felt the temperature rise, and she started to sweat.

She stepped out of the hatch and into the mining tunnels. It was dark, though the tunnels were lit with sparsely placed lamps. They shone bleakly against the dark asteroid rock. Her com link buzzed. She pressed it, and Atton's face came in on the display, but it was very fuzzy.

"Can you read me?" he asked.

"Only just. There's a lot of static."

Atton nodded, "There's a lot of interference down there," he explained. "Probably caused by that explosion. Still, you were right. It looks like there's a route down to the Peragus fuel depot, if the passages haven't collapsed. That explosion knocked out most of the sensors. There should be an emergency crate in the next room. Watch yourself. There's a lot of droid broadcasts in the area, but I can't pin them down."

Darden lifted the com so he could only see her face. "I handled the droids on the administration level just fine," she told him. "Don't worry. I'll be careful. I'll keep the line open; if you pick up anything else, let me know."

"Will do."

The line went dead, and Darden made her way into the room Atton had indicated. There was a barrel of emergency supplies there—Atton must have picked it up in the mining regulations file. Darden opened it, and grinned. There at the top of the barrel was a—fortunately stretchy—fresh new mining uniform.

Her com-link buzzed again. "Find the emergency supplies?" Atton wanted to know.

"Yes," Darden said. "And some clothes not previously worn by a rotting corpse."

"Dammit!" Atton swore. Then he seemed to remember Darden was on the line. "Uh…I mean, good. Good to hear it. No sense in you running around half-naked. It's—it's distracting…I mean, for the droids."

Darden blushed red hot, but managed to control her temper. Instead of shouting at him, she said very coolly, "I'll just give you a minute to get your foot out of your mouth." There was an awkward pause as Atton seemed to do just that.

Then he said, "Look, there may be some survey gear and a safety harness inside the crate, too. The miners wear them when staking claims on the asteroids. The survey gear is designed to spot and protect you against sonic mines…and the safety harness can be helpful if you try to disarm them."

Darden spotted the items beneath the clothes. She started to pull the uniform on, but still spoke to Atton, "That'll be useful. Thanks for the tip. Anything else?"

Atton waited until she'd pulled on the uniform. Despite the stretchy material, and that it was much smaller than the men it had been designed to fit, when Darden had zipped it up it still sagged around the ankles and its sleeves hung over her hands. She rolled them up, and Atton said, "Just one more thing—I've narrowed down some of those ID signals, and if the numbers are right, you're sharing those tunnels with a battalion of mining droids."

His voice was serious and low. Darden was forced to take him as seriously as he sounded. If all the droids were rogue, it _could_ present quite a problem. "A battalion. Hmm. Okay. I'll keep that in mind."

Atton winced at her tone and hastily added, "It's not as bad as all that, okay? Those droids rely on thermal sensors, primarily to detect fuel deposits. The explosion there kicked up so much heat and steam it may blind them a little."

Darden knew droids, though. "A little, but not much. Thanks for the encouragement, anyway."

"Look for the central controller down there," Atton told her. "See if you can find a terminal by the main access shaft: that'd be governing intelligence."

"And I can shut 'em down or reprogram them there. Got it. Will do."

Atton paused. "Darden—be careful."

Darden nodded, and Atton signed off. Darden pulled on shoes and looked down in the barrel. There was a mining shield in there, too, that she thought might come in handy if the tunnels got much hotter later on. And there were a few more ration bars she thrust in her pack. That'd come in handy in a few hours, whether they were still here or not.

In the bottom of her pack, Darden found a stealth field generator she'd obtained upstairs. She considered for a moment, and then buckled it on over her baggy uniform. The safety harness might help her to disarm mines, but she was pretty good at that, anyway, and she was frankly more worried about the droids. She placed the safety harness in her pack—rapidly filling up with scavenged equipment, now, and set off.

It was slow going. There were a lot of sonic mines in the tunnels. Atton radioed in and said that in his search of the files upstairs, he'd found that one of the functions of the droids was to set charges to help mine the fuel. Since their sabotage, he suspected the charges were meant for organics. Darden avoided them easily enough. The mines were low-grade, and simple to disarm. She recovered one or two for future use, in case she met a stubborn door or a blocked passage later on. Others she merely avoided. She could feel the energy signatures, faintly.

Once or twice she prodded at the place in the back of her mind where Kreia had come through before. She could feel that there was a link there, but either her mind was still too unused to the activity, or Kreia had her guard firmly up, because there was silence across the bond. Darden could feel Kreia was there, watching, but little more. The woman might have been as dead as she had appeared when Darden had found her in the morgue.

The tunnels grew hotter as Darden went along. Darden was grateful for the cooling system the mining uniform had in place, but her face still grew uncomfortably warm, and sweat trickled in her hair and down her neck. But all in all she was grateful for the heat. It kept the droids from noticing her. She had to move slowly, quietly. They had auditory sensors, after all. Once, two droids came at her from both sides and stopped. Darden had to stand stock still with their heavy arms centimeters from her legs. She didn't even breathe for a minute, until the droids decided there was no-one there and turned and trundled off someplace else.

There was a big cavern nearly twenty minutes along the tunnels. Darden must have seen a dozen droids in there, milling around, setting mines, or just sitting there. It was very strange, because now that all the organics in the area were dead, the droids hadn't reverted to their primary programming. They just waited. It was almost as if they were purposeless, like someone had replaced their prime directive.

Darden picked her way step by harrowing step across the cavern. With every step the heat grew, and when Darden had finally exited the droid-filled cavern, she looked ahead and swore, under her breath. The rock here looked more liquid. Gaseous fumes in yellow and purple were curling off of it. Her com-link buzzed.

"Hey," said Atton. "That explosion has superheated the tunnels ahead."

"No kidding," Darden told him, flashing her wrist at what she was seeing to give him a visual.

"That steam'll cook the skin off your bones," Atton warned. "If you have a mining energy shield—switch it on—it should protect you against the heat if you move quickly enough."

Darden nodded. "I grabbed a shield in the supply bin back there, and I can move when I have to. Thanks for the heads up."

"Good luck. Over and out."

Darden, moving slowly so as not to attract the attention of the droids still only in the next cavern, removed the mining shield from her bag and attached it to her uniform. She activated it, and immediately wondered why she hadn't done so before. The relief was blissful. She started to cool down at once. Darden might have stayed and cooled down, but she had places to be. So she ran.

She felt the impact of the superheated tunnel immediately, felt the energy in her shield strain to keep it at bay. The steam curled around her, impairing her vision, and breathing in made her cough. The smell was metallic and angry. Darden couldn't see the end of the tunnel. So she just ran forward.

She felt the shield begin to fail, and desperately, Darden reached out with the Force, and felt the air clear just a few meters in front of her. Her lungs straining, her eyes watering, just as the shield failed Darden broke free of the tunnel into a wider area. She began sweating again immediately, and worse. So, breathing deeply, she kept moving.

Her com-link buzzed again. "Hey, you're getting close to something big," Atton said. "I think it's the main ventilation shaft. The central droid controller should be somewhere nearby. Keep an eye out for it. I'm picking up a lot of droids."

Darden looked at the shaft ahead of her. The tunnels had opened up, and she could see the controller Atton kept going on about in the center of a walkway over a big pit where the fuel vented up. If she could just get there, she could shut down the droids, find out what had happened to them, and best of all, quite possibly find a way out. But Atton was right, too. There were a lot of droids. And maintenance drones. Darden had noticed a couple of the little spheres in the big cavern earlier, but there were many more, here. They were specifically attentive to the droids. They existed to repair them. Darden wondered, a little hysterically, whether they had weapons and had been warped to attack her, too.

"I can handle them," she told Atton, though, more bravely than she felt. The air was much better, here. She didn't know if the droids' thermal sensors would still be malfunctioning. "…and the maintenance drones."

It was a little bit of a cry for help. "Maintenance drones?" Atton said in surprise. He frowned on the display. "Gun them down first, or the little pests will repair the droids. It's odd, though, that they're still active after the explosion. They don't have the same shielding as the mining droids."

Darden grimaced. "I think they've been adapted. Someone's been using the droids to sabotage the facility. Before they sent the droids to kill everyone on-base, they wanted to make sure the droids stayed operational."

Atton's eyes narrowed on the display, and his mouth tightened. "I don't like this," he said quietly. "Be careful."

Darden paused, and looked at him. For someone that said he didn't care what happened to her, Atton was being extremely helpful, and worrying an awful lot. It struck her that maybe Atton was a little more freaked out then he was letting on, and very much more glad of his rescue and her company than he wanted her to know. "Because you don't want to escape Peragus by yourself," she said, very slowly.

Atton didn't flinch. "Yeah. Exactly," he said. And he shut off his end of the com-link.

Darden shrugged, and reactivated her stealth field. The objective was in sight. She could worry about her allies' histories, stories, and motivations after she'd cleared a path to a ship.

She moved more slowly than she had in the tunnel, even. Darden crept to the central droid controller, keeping on hand on her mining laser and pausing every time a droid so much as turned around. It took almost five minutes, but at last she reached the console and relaxed. She looked around. Around the rim of the shaft were four power generators. These would provide the energy both for mining operations down here in the tunnels and for the droids. All four were hemmed in with containment fields. The only way out was the way she had come.

Darden didn't panic. Instead, she accessed the console. She called up the droid functions. The numbers were very weird. She had been right: the droids had been issued with a new prime directive, but the source of the order had been removed from the system's history. Definitely sabotage, and not system decay, Darden decided. She thought for a moment, and then on a hunch, entered a sequence into the programming computer. All the droids in the room went still for a moment, then they resumed wandering around aimlessly. But this time, Darden thought they just might be harmless.

She returned to the main computer menu, and accessed the level plan. She brightened. It looked like there were two other ways out of this room. One had caved in, though. That wasn't too much of a hardship seeing as it led back to the administration emergency turbolift. The other route—Darden grinned. The other route was wide open, past the containment field. It led to the fuel depot turbolift. She checked the stats on the lift. It was still active.

Darden shut down the containment fields, shut off her stealth field, and walked off the platform and right up to a droid. "Hey—hey droid!" she called. She waved her arms around. It regarded her, but it didn't attack. Darden let go of her laser, approached the droid, and flipped the maintenance switch. The droid went into its maintenance mode. Using the interface below its 'head', Darden called up the droid's recent history. She read it on the primitive display there. She frowned. She'd been right. There was her recent order displayed—'cancel mining functions on organics', but before that, two days ago, the droid's primary objective had been changed. Instead of fuel, it had been set to mine organics. The orders traced back to the maintenance officer.

Darden shut the interface down and stepped away from the droid. She tapped her foot thoughtfully. It made sense, that the droids had been sabotaged in maintenance. But she remembered the log upstairs. The security officer had interrogated the maintenance officer on the station breakdown. The maintenance officer- a scrawny, red-headed man in his mid-twenties—had seemed entirely clueless. Then, Darden thought of the _other_ log entry upstairs. There had been a droid they'd found with her and Kreia on the _Ebon Hawk. _Not T3-M4, a protocol unit. That droid had been given work in maintenance. And right after that the trouble had started. Darden scowled. She didn't like it. The droid would have had to have forged the maintenance officer's digital signature, somehow. Or maybe he was involved. Maybe he had been on Coorta's side, and had wanted to get the other miners out of the way? It didn't make sense.

Her musings were interrupted when her com-link buzzed. It was Atton, looking very worried. "Hey—I'm picking up some strange readings—what are you doing down there?"

Darden blinked, guiltily realizing she had stood in the main shaft thinking for about ten minutes together. She started moving towards the exit. "I'm trying to find a way out. What kind of readings are you picking up?"

"The containment fields in the mining tunnels are shutting down," Atton told her. "You need to get out of there before they vent fuel to the surface of the asteroid through the tunnels."

Darden's stomach turned over. A disadvantage of a goal-oriented mentality is she sometimes neglected to take stock of her surroundings adequately. She blushed furiously as she realized it simply hadn't occurred to her that the containment fields had been a completely normal system response to the detonations and the heat in the tunnels. Everything else had been so abnormal, so obviously sabotaged. She realized now that a great deal of the heat that had built up down here had been contained. Secondarily, she realized that in the ten minutes she had been standing here, it had already gotten much warmer. She brought a hand to her head. Her hair was plastered down with sweat, and the metallic smell was starting to come back.

"Right," she said. "Er…how much time do I have?" she asked Atton, trying to sound off-hand.

Atton wasn't looking at the display. His fingers were busy at the administration console. "I may be able to keep it contained until you get the turbolift to the fuel depot," he told her, "But not for much longer. I'm locking down the turbolift to the administration section now to keep the blast from spreading. If you've got anything left to do down there, make it quick, because where you are is going to get real hot, real soon."

Darden nodded. "Got it." She switched off the com-link, and ran again.

The heat pursued her from the main shaft through the tunnels. Her lungs strained, and just before she started coughing again, she made it to the turbolift. She activated it.

The turbolift bucked and rolled as the explosion went off behind Darden Leona. The doors opened, and Darden rolled out, feeling like a fish jumping out of a net. The doors closed. A buzzer sounded. The turbolift had been damaged. There would be no return to the tunnels. The detonations Darden had set off had damaged them beyond what any saboteur had done. No one would be working down there for a long time.

For a long time, Darden just lay there on the floor of the fuel depot, gasping and letting the cool air wash over her. When she had recovered enough to sit up, she spotted a water fixture on the wall across from her. She stood, shakily, and went over to it. She drank deeply. The water cleaned her throat and slaked her thirst. It tasted absolutely wonderful- the best water had tasted in years. Then again, Darden thought it had been about two years since she'd been in this strange of a situation. She kept pumping the water after she was no longer thirsty, and used it to wash her face, hands, and head. She didn't care that it wasn't sanitary. Sanitation was for people in comfortable apartments, with regular jobs and living neighbors. Sanitation was for people without bounties on their heads that remembered the last three days.

Darden shook her wet hair out of her eyes and ran her fingers through it. Then she rolled her shoulders and looked around.

The fuel depot was as eerily silent as the rest of the mining facility. Darden saw a couple of corpses in the corner, and blood on the floor. She grimaced. There were four openings to the hall she was in. Two led to a large-ish room on the right. One led straight ahead, and one led off to the left. Peering in, Darden saw a workbench. She blinked. She must have wound up in the maintenance wing of the fuel depot. She took a deep breath. All the trouble had started here.

She tried to access her com-link. She pressed the button, but the other end of the link had gone down. The display was fuzzy, and all Darden could hear was white noise. The explosion had probably knocked out communications with Atton Rand, at least for a while. She frowned, and tried the mental link with Kreia again. Nothing. She was alone. Until she worked out a way out of the fuel depot, it would probably stay that way, too.

She went into the room with the workbench then. There weren't many clues there, just random droid parts lying all around. But in a plasteel cylinder beside the bench, Darden found a sonic sensor and a datapad. Darden perused the datapad. She nodded slowly. The maintenance officer—a Reddic Carlisle, had been telling the truth to the security officer. He _hadn't _had any idea what was going on with the droids he was supposed to be in charge of. He'd recognized it had to be sabotage, though, and he'd been working against it. He'd been originating a new voice-lock security system for the droids, and for a few other things. The protocol droid—an HK-50, had been helping him with it.

Darden pocketed the sensor thoughtfully, and crossed the hallway to the other room.

She almost stepped on the body. Darden stopped up short and looked down. His leg was broken, and he had bled from multiple laser and trauma wounds. His face was twisted in agony and fear, but she recognized the corpse from the holo-log. It was Reddic Carlisle.

Something moved in the corner, and Darden pulled out her mining laser. But this droid did not attack. The gray protocol model with the strange yellow eyes instead walked up to her. "Greeting," it hailed her in a voice more tonally varied than any droid model she'd encountered before, "It is a pleasure to see you alive again, Master, provided my receptors are not off-focus. How may I be of assistance?"

This was a less startling and more cheerful welcome than any Darden had had on Peragus yet. There was only one problem. Darden had never seen this droid before in her life. "What are you talking about, droid?" she said cautiously. "I'm not your Master."

"Answer: I am a survivor of the _Harbinger_, just as you were, Master," the droid answered. "With the unexpected termination of my previous master, you are the only organic which I may now serve."

Darden's heart rate sped up. This droid—it must be HK-50. It had gotten from the _Harbinger_ to the _Hawk _and arrived here with her? Perhaps it would tell her what exactly had happened. But it also occurred to her that though the droid might know what had happened to her, it also was very high on the list of possible saboteurs of the mining facility. Right beneath Coorta and his cronies. And to her knowledge, only this droid had been working in maintenance where the droid memory reported its change in directive had come from. "Just who was your previous master?" she asked it.

"Answer: The captain of the Harbinger, master. I was in transit to Telos to facilitate communications and terminate hostilities…However, we did not arrive at our intended destination."

Darden looked around and sighed. "We didn't, did we? I don't suppose you know what happened?"

The droid's head swiveled and for a second its yellow eyes glowed brighter. "Irritated Answer: Oh, Master, it is such a long, dull story," it said. "And not terribly relevant to our current situation."

Darden crossed her arms. "Indulge me," she said.

The HK-50 droid's gears clicked. "Hesitant Explanation: That has been the subject of considerable discussion since our arrival here, Master," it began finally. "Many have tried to claim you and this unit as salvage. I was crudely interrogated concerning our brief history together on board the Harbinger…before its communications, weapons, and engines suffered the cascade failure that disabled the ship."

_Not terribly relevant to our current situation, _Darden thought. _Right. _"How is it that I don't remember any of this?"

The droid swiveled its head from side to side before saying tentatively, "Speculation: It is possible you were incapacitated and locked in the well-shielded cargo compartment as the _Harbinger_ was being systematically crippled, Master."

Darden took in a deep breath. "Right. And I got from the cargo compartment to here…how?"

"Recitation," the droid said in a bored-sounding voice, rolling the 'r'. "Following the unusual set of coincidences that led to the cascade failure in the _Harbinger's_ systems, we were boarded by a small freighter with unknown ID codes. It appeared that this freighter had been attacked, and the captain wanted to study it. This freighter appeared to still be spaceworthy." The droid's tone changed then. Its 'eyes' flared again. "Your cargo compartment was breached," it told her, sounding angry. "You were taken aboard the freighter shortly before the Harbinger's systems began to go critical. I, too, managed to board the freighter before the _Harbinger'_s destruction. We were most fortunate to have survived, Master."

Darden thought. _Not if Kreia was telling the truth, we weren't. _Putting together Kreia's story with HK-50's, Darden had been attacked and incapacitated on a sabotaged ship. Kreia must have been the one to get her off the _Harbinger_ and into the _Ebon Hawk, _but the question still remained, what had _Kreia_ been doing on the _Ebon Hawk_ in the first place? And how in the world had she known to come rescue Darden when it sounded like her ship had been the one in original distress, sabotage aside.

Darden looked at HK-50. "Tell me about the freighter. What had happened to it?"

"Evaluation: Master, I do not know. Judging by the damage, it had been attacked by a much larger vessel. And when it attempted to escape the _Harbinger_ with you on board, it was fired on again,"

That set off warning bells in Darden's head. HK-50 had said the weapons' systems on the _Harbinger_ had been failing. So how had it been able to fire on the _Ebon Hawk_? And why had it? It was a Republic ship, wasn't it? The Republic had wanted to get her to Telos, not kill her. Someone had gone out of their way to sabotage them so they couldn't do so. Darden thought she knew the saboteur, but…? But…? There were too many unanswered questions. And HK-50 was still talking.

"Addendum: It does seem odd that such a small vessel has a high probability of attracting the attention of much larger vessels," he remarked. "Not a welcome trait in a freighter, to be sure."

"Why did the_ Ebon Hawk _take me on board?" Darden asked. If Kreia wouldn't tell her, perhaps the droid would.

"Speculation: I do not know, Master," the droid admitted. "Perhaps it was always its intention to play dead, then kidnap you off the _Harbinger_ and rob me of my bounty."

Darden refocused abruptly on the droid. "Bounty?" she asked softly.

The droid's circuits whirred just a second too long. "Clarification:" it said then. "By 'bounty', I refer to your life, Master. It would pain me to see you damaged in any way. That is why the arrival of this _Ebon Hawk_ caused me considerable distress."

Darden didn't comment further. She was beginning to get a pretty good idea at exactly what had happened here on Peragus, at least, and she had a guess as to why it had happened. The Exchange had a bounty on her head? She had a feeling Coorta and his friends had tried to lay claim to what an assassin droid already thought of as his own. But with assassins, it was always best to pretend you didn't notice them until you had a chance to get away. Especially if they were pretending to be friendlies like the HK-50 unit. So, after a brief pause, Darden asked, "But…why did the _Ebon Hawk_ come here?"

The droid looked as awkward as a droid can look without the benefit of facial expression. "Apology: My memory core cannot provide a clear answer on that point, Master. Suffice it to say that once we arrived on this floating rock our situation became much clearer."

Darden considered, then she plunged ahead. "How so?"

"Explanation:" the droid explained. "Despite my market value, Master, the miners were far more interested in you. It did not take me long to ascertain the reason for this. While an HK protocol droid is a valuable piece of property, Jedi are worth much more in certain…exclusive markets across the galaxy.

"Painful Admission:" it added, "I must confess to feelings of inferiority at the speculated difference between my value and the price for your capture. I was forced to remind myself it was not due to a failing of my model or function, but because you were a Jedi."

Darden realized something else, then. "I'm not a Jedi," she told HK-50. "Why did the miners think I was?"

"Surprised Answer:" said the droid, sounding completely unsurprised. "Why, I told them, Master. You are the exiled Jedi who served with Revan in the Mandalorian Wars, are you not? I hope all that has happened has not been the result of a miscommunication. If so, then the problem lies with the coreward databases, which are notoriously spotty."

Darden nodded grimly. It was worse than she'd thought. "Yeah, except the information wouldn't be in the coreward databases, droid," she told him. "Only in the Jedi archives." There was a leak somewhere. And because of that leak, half the galaxy would be after her.

The droid caught her implied accusation this time, though, on the whole, he was demonstrating himself to be very bad at deception and even worse at subtlety. "Indignant Exclamation: Master, I am only a protocol droid!" it insisted. "But it is part of my function to know such information and relay it to any interested parties, in the interests of terminating any potential hostiles."

And there it was. With droids, the programming always showed. Darden reevaluated her decision to keep her suspicions quiet. If the droid was talking about hostiles, it might start trying to kill her any minute. So she cleared her throat. "Terminating potential hostiles? As in, killing them?"

The droid's gears whirred again. "Quick Clarification: Apparently my vocabulator has suffered some damage, Master," it tried to explain. "I mean terminating any potential hostilities."

Maybe it wouldn't break out the blaster rifle just yet. Darden shifted. She was growing more uncomfortable with HK-50 by the second. "I see. So what has been happening with the miners?"

"Answer: All that has happened has been because they believe you to be a Jedi, Master," HK-50 informed her. "They debated what to do with you as you lay unconscious in the medical bay. One group seemed intent on selling you as property. The other group opposed this."

Darden rolled her eyes. "I've gathered that much. But then what happened? Exactly."

HK-50's eyes glowed. "Answer: Three standard hours after the division between the miners became apparent, accidents began to occur throughout the facility. A result of improper maintenance, I believe. These accidents coincided with the degradation of the mining droid behavioral cores…crude models are prone to such failures, resulting in murderous rampages. The mortality rate of organics in the facility rose quickly."

Darden swallowed. "I see. But what happened to the ones that weren't killed?" She cursed the desperate sounding note of her voice, but let no expression show on her face.

"Answer:" answered HK-50. "Many miners began to join you in the medical bay as a cascade of flawlessly timed detonations occurred in isolated gas pockets in the lower levels of the facility. The explosions herded the miners into emergency sections of the station, quickly and efficiently cutting them off from communications and facility control…but sadly enough, not the ventilation systems."

If Darden's stomach had had much in it to sicken, she might have vomited. A horrible presentiment occurred to her. "How do you mean?" she all but squeaked.

"Explanation:" the droid trilled gleefully, "You see, the explosions had damaged specific sections of this facility's ventilation systems, causing a slow, lethal build-up of toxic fumes in the dormitory level."

She couldn't rip the droid apart now. She needed information it might possess. Darden took several long, deep breaths until she could keep her voice level. "Do you think there are any left alive?"

"Answer: I do not know, Master," HK-50 said happily. "Ironically enough, any miner that fled to the dormitory level to protect themselves from the droids and the explosions would find themselves in a gas-filled deathtrap."

Darden shook her head. "What are you?" she breathed. She'd never met a droid like this—capable of assassination on such a massive scale for so little reason.

"Proud Answer: I am an HK series protocol droid, Master," the droid responded immediately, "skilled in trans-organic relations and communications. This model has been responsible for the facilitation of communications and termination of hostilities across the galaxy. I am fluent in over six thousand forms of communication and am also capable of nuances of expression ranging from irony to veiled threats."

Darden sighed. Suddenly she felt very, very tired. "Why would you need to use veiled threats?" she asked in a hollow, flat voice.

"Explanation:" said HK-50. "Sometimes the facilitation of communications and termination of hostilities requires the use of every weapon in one's…" he paused. Gears whirred. Something clicked, and he continued, "Verbal arsenal. The unspoken threat of violence to a listener's loved ones, or, if possible, their entire planet, can effectively break the deadlock in the most stubborn of negotiations."

Darden swallowed and nodded. It occurred to her that HK-50 might have disabled Teethree when he was down here, in order to keep her contained where he knew where she was, and knew she couldn't do anything. So she didn't ask about T3-M4. She didn't want to provoke him, and anyway, she suspected this model was more than capable of lying to her. But she needed his information, so she said, "So. About that service you can do me. I'm trying to get to the hangar."

HK-50 stood up straighter. His head swiveled down to look at her more directly. Darden felt very short suddenly—the droid was much taller than even a tall man. "Pitying Answer:" HK-50 said slowly, "Oh, that is unfortunate, Master. The hangar is sealed behind a containment field. It would be impossible to open it."

Darden clenched and unclenched her fists. "Not if I shut down the containment field," she said, forcing herself to remain calm. "There has to be an override code, right?"

"Answer: Only the Peragus administration officer would have such codes, Master," the droid told her. "If he hasn't already been murdered in an unfortunate accident, then he is trapped in the dormitory section, which has been effectively cut off from the facility by explosives."

Darden turned on her heel and walked three paces across the room. Was it going to take her the rest of her life to get off this asteroid? She paced up and down the room to let off energy. "There is always another way out, there is always another way out," she told herself. She went back to HK-50, who was watching her quizzically. "What's the alternate route to the dormitories?" she demanded.

Apparently, the unit was conditioned to aid organics, at least nominally, because the droid responded. "Theory: You could walk across the surface of the asteroid to the dormitory airlock," it said in the most uncertain 'nuance' Darden thought it could manage. It hastened to add, "But such a route would be extremely hazardous, and I do not wish to see you damaged."

Darden smiled grimly. "I'll just bet you don't," she murmured. "But if there's any chance that some of the miners might still be alive, I've got to help them. And I need those codes."

HK-50's eyes glowed. In quite a different tone than any it had used thus far, it said, "Warning: Master, continued exploration of this facility may place you in unnecessary danger. I encourage you to return to the medical bay and wait for retrieval from a vessel that is no doubt on the way even as we continue this pointless conversation."

_And end as an Exchange slave or a dead bounty? Not likely, _Darden thought. She drew herself up. "You call me Master, so I'll decide the plan of action," she said, as firmly as she could alone with only a mining laser, a plasma torch, and a vibroblade for defense. She thought this droid might be a little tougher to take down than a primitive automated mining droid. "And I've decided to get to the dormitories and see if there's any miners left to rescue. So help me."

"Weary Resignation: Very well, Master," HK-50 said at last. "But there is very little I can do. You see, the airlock is restricted by a code."

Darden closed her eyes. "Of course it is. Dammit! Who's got _that _code?"

HK-50 looked pleased. "Correction:" it said with intolerable smugness. "Oh, I already possess the code, Master, but I am afraid that it will do you no good."

"It won't? Why not?"

"Condescending Explanation," HK-50 explained condescendingly, "Master, the console controlling the droid maintenance area…and the airlock…is voice-printed. Musing: In the last days of his life, the maintenance officer was quite careful about voice protocols, bordering on paranoid obsession. Conjecture: I suspect once he realized something was wrong in the facility, he voice-locked the droid-bay functions. A prudent measure, but in the end he met the same fate as the rest of the organics."

Darden's hand stole to her pocket. She closed her fingers around the sonic sensor. "That's him, there?" she said, nodding at Reddic Carlisle.

HK-50 inclined his head. "Confirmation: That is all that remains of the maintenance officer, Master. At the end, he was quite incoherent from the pain, and attempts to facilitate communications with him proved useless. I heard his dying screams as the droids he tended turned on him, mining him like a piece of asteroid rock."

Darden looked up at HK-50 with new horror. The droid had stood there, and _watched_, while Carlisle had died? "You heard him screaming?"

HK-50 looked pleased. "Recitation: Oh, yes, Master. The record of his last moments were:"

And he began to speak in a very different voice. Not a droid's, a man's. A baritone, gone tenor with terror. Darden had heard the voice before, upstairs, on the security officer's holo-log. Reddic Carlisle. Darden's stomach heaved. She clenched her fists and bit her tongue, though, and instead of listening to a man die, she forced herself to listen to a way out.

HK-50 finished his little 'recitation'. "Addendum:" he added. "His remaining attempts at communication are variations in decibel, Master, ranging from frenzied screams to gibbering, inarticulate attempts to beg for his life."

Darden closed her eyes briefly. She swallowed, took a breath, and looked at HK-50. "Thank you. That was very interesting and informative. Now. You do know the code the maintenance officer used to lock the dormitory airlock?"

"Condescending Explanation: Oh, yes, Master. The code is 'Maintenance Control: Voiceprint ID: R1-B5'," he said in his normal droid tones. "But unless the Maintenance Officer speaks the code, it is useless.

Darden glared at him. "I don't see how that's a problem. You can mimic voices. You can speak the code for me."

"Objection:" HK-50 objected in faux-angered tones. "Master! To commit such an act would be a violation of the ethics programming most droids are believed to possess. I am afraid there is nothing that can be done."

Darden fingered the sonic sensor in her pocket. "Dammit!" she said. Then she forced herself to look cruelly disappointed. "Look, don't worry about it, HK. I understand if your limited functionality prevents you from mimicking the maintenance officer's voice accurately."

She had him. His eyes flashed, he drew himself up, and said, "Irritated Objection: Master, there is nothing wrong with my communications functionality. I will prove it. Recitation:…"

Darden activated the sensor. "'Maintenance Control: Voiceprint ID: R1-B5'" HK-50 said in Reddic Carlisle's voice. Darden stopped the recording. "There. Was that sufficient, Master?"

"Perfectly sufficient. I'm sorry I ever doubted your capabilities," Darden told him. "I'll just…er…be going now." She gave the assassin droid a little wave and walked out of the room and to the end of the hall she hadn't explored. She hoped HK-50 would think she was going back to the medical bay to wait for his Exchange ship. He didn't follow her.

It was perfectly clear now that HK-50 had corrupted the droids and caused the detonations in the facility. She couldn't _prove_ it, but Darden knew that was what had to have happened. The thing now was to get some weapon better than a mining laser, take care of him, and get away before he 'terminated' the 'hostilities' of the other two organics she knew still lived on Peragus and drugged her again.

The door led to the fuel depot proper. It quickly became apparent to Darden that the group droid reprogramming she'd done down in the tunnels hadn't bridged levels. Four droids immediately tried to attack her, and there wasn't enough heat to provide cover here. Darden dodged and rolled and ducked behind the door for cover. She ripped open her pack and drew out the mines and grenades she'd scavenged on other levels while lasers scored the wall behind her. She heard the droids moving nearer, and she darted out and threw a grenade and ducked. She heard two droids chassis' hit the floor. She rolled out and came up shooting with her mining laser at the other two. They didn't track well, didn't turn well. They fell, too.

Darden stood up, breathing heavily. She immediately saw what HK-50 had meant. She was cut off from the rest of the fuel depot by containment fields. She knew that side connected to the hangar. Teethree had told her so, in their brief conversation. She could only go right, so she did.

There was a series of rooms at the end of the hall. And more droids. These were a different model, more sophisticated. Darden was glad for her uniform as she shot them out. She glared at her mining laser at the end of the fight. She _needed_ a better weapon.

The maintenance terminal was in a room on the right of a hallway similar to the one on the other side of the depot. With the voice-code she'd recorded on the sonic sensor, Darden was able to get full access to the terminal easily. She checked the logs and cameras out of habit—but there was no new information in the logs. It wasn't until she saw the camera feed of the fuel line that Darden stopped.

There was _stuff_ in the fuel line. A mine, a metal case, and a droid were _clearly_ visible there. Darden frowned. The droid was a utility model. Probably T3-M4. She called up stats on the fuel line—Teethree had been a huge help, or tried to be. If she could get him out of here, she should. Then Darden blinked. The fuel line was pretty much the only part of the facility that _never shut down_. It ran straight from storage _in the hangar area_ to whatever ship happened to be picking up fuel from Peragus at the time. It went under the depot, past security…in short, if a ship docked at Peragus she could climb straight past the containment field. Of course, she'd have to avoid the heat. And the fumes. And she didn't even know if she could get _in_ there, with no ship docked at Peragus right now. Darden frowned. HK-50 had gotten in to dump T3-M4 and whatever that case was. But she didn't think he'd be telling how. Could she somehow rescue her little astromech helper anyway?

She sighed. The override codes for the containment fields were her best option, anyway. She logged out of the camera menu and into the map. Darden brightened. The turbolift to the administration level was working down here, and should she take it, she would break lockdown up there. So if she could get the override codes from the dormitory, she would have a working turbolift to go get Kreia and Atton Rand and come back to the hangar. Then, provided the Ebon Hawk was spaceworthy, it was goodbye Peragus.

Darden hesitated. There might be more droids in the dormitories. Or something else. It might be more prudent to go upstairs and see if Atton, at least, cared to help her out over there. Kreia had seemed too weak to move, last time they'd talked. And she'd been so silent at the back of Darden's head.

Darden bit her lip, and then shook her head. Atton wouldn't be much stronger than Kreia after days of prison and two or three days of no food and water. Better to let him stay up on administration, where it was safe. Use the fresher, drink some water, recover himself. Maybe he'd even come up with a better plan than she had. She basically had no plan, after all. It was still better that he stay up there, so if anything happened to her, he still had a chance. The Exchange wasn't after him, after all. Darden had believed HK-50 when he'd said a ship was on its way. Maybe the Exchange ship would take Atton and Kreia on board. Atton seemed like a capable enough person. He could probably make his way with them. Kreia—Darden hoped she'd be alright.

She would be if Darden found those codes, though. They _all_ would be. So Darden used the sonic sensor again to remote-unlock the dormitory airlock. She adjusted her grip on her mining laser, and left the room.

There was a spacesuit in the airlock locker. Darden put it on clumsily over her uniform. It was even bigger on her than the uniform. She felt like she was floating in it already, and she was still in the facility's simulated gravitational field. Her hands felt more like paddles after she'd air-sealed the suit and activated the oxygen tank, but she was nevertheless able to close the airlock and open the door to the asteroid surface.

Darden walked out on the surface of the asteroid. There was a metal walkway leading up and over to the dormitory level. Darden was grateful for that. At least she wouldn't have to guess where it was and bet her oxygen. She began walking, moving her legs more slowly, conscious that momentum carried longer out here.

It was silent, but the silence was the empty silence of space, not the eerie silence of a dead mining facility, and Darden basked in the difference. She looked out over the walkway and saw the Peragus star, and the stars of countless other systems. She'd been to many of them. She'd destroyed some of them. But there was so much more out there. So much more life. And now, through her renewed faint connection to the Force, she could feel a little of it. Darden Leona fancied she heard the stars singing. She definitely felt the vibrations that were the rotations in this system.

Then Darden heard a hiss. A jet of yellow and purple steam turned on right in front of her. Even in the cold of space, Darden felt the heat. The fuel vents. Darden thought rapidly. If she jumped, if she ran, that cold of space might protect her long enough to get through the vent.

She pumped her legs and leaped. She bounced off the walkway. A millisecond of searing pain, and then she was through. Darden bounced once, twice more, then she fanned out her arms, crouched, and managed to stop. She looked to the right, and blinked. The walkway had gone up. She hadn't noticed. She was right outside the observation window on the administration level. She could see the terminal. She could see Atton Rand hunched over it, feverishly pressing buttons. He saw something then, and gave a great laugh.

Darden's com-link buzzed, and she smiled incredulously. Had he been trying to reach her all this time?

She was grateful for the too-big spacesuit, then. She was able, if only just, to slip the com-link off her wrist and come-in. She was able to hear Atton clearly.

"It's about time. I lost your signal after you left the mining tunnels," he said. "Now you're coming in clear…except I'm picking you up on the exterior of the facility, on the asteroid's surface. That can't be right."

Darden laughed and spoke up loudly, hoping Atton would hear her through the suit. "Look up and smile, Atton."

Atton did hear her. He looked up. She waved her arms in the spacesuit. Atton caught sight of her. For a moment, he didn't seem to understand what he was seeing.

"Huh? What are you doing out there?" he asked.

Darden tried to communicate a shrug in the difficult-to-move spacesuit without bouncing off the walkway. "The hangar's cut off from the fuel depot by a containment field," she explained. "I need the administration officer's override codes, and he, or his body, is in the dormitory. But the regular door's been destroyed, so I'm taking a spacewalk."

Atton looked hard at her through the observation window. "You're crazy," he said flatly. "Even for a Jedi. Look, you need to get out of there…quick."

"What do you mean?"

"What little is left of the facility's venting systems have gone active," he told her. "Most likely from the explosions in the mining tunnels."

Darden grimaced. Right. Her fault, then.

Atton continued, "They're venting Peragus fuel deposits into space through the exterior vents—right in your path."

Darden frowned. She thought she'd gotten through the vent, but then she looked down. There was another vent right below her, in between her and the dormitory. "Yeah. I noticed that. Can you shut those down?"

Atton shook his head. "I can't—I'm locked out of the main systems here." He hit the top of the terminal. "I couldn't shut it down if I tried. The vents look like they've been purposely rerouted to vent the gases to the exterior, and only in the last few minutes. It's almost as if…"

"The facility saboteur knows I'm out here and wants to kill me especially?" Darden asked. Atton, behind the observation window, went very still. "Dammit," Darden muttered. "Mining laser or not, I should've tried to take him out in maintenance. There's a droid, Atton," she explained. "I'm not following his plan of—what's that?" she broke off.

A shadow had crossed the stars. There was an echo in the back of Darden's mind, some great menace.

"Oh, what now?!" Atton burst out. "I don't believe this—there's a ship coming in, sending a docking code."

"Not just any ship," Darden murmured, as the Peragus exterior lighting illuminated the Republic cruiser. "That's the _Harbinger_. I was on that ship before I woke up and found I'd arrived at Peragus on the _Ebon Hawk_. But the droid said it had died…"

"I have a bad feeling about this," Atton said quietly.

There was a beep, and Darden looked down at her oxygen gauge. It was at forty-two percent, and falling. "Me, too," she said. "And meanwhile, my oxygen's running out." She squeezed the com-link, gave Atton a wave, and moved. The fuel line extended to the _Harbinger _as Darden jumped through another jet of fuel, heading towards the dormitories, and an escape that she suddenly felt had just gotten much more urgent.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, so these first few chapters are shaping up to have a lot of game-dialogue. Necessary exposition. I don't like to stick to that, though. Come Telos there will be diversification, and plenty of it. Prior readers' opinions would help in these first few chapters. I'm not sure if Darden's personality is setting up to be significantly different than Aithne's, or not. I think it is, but I'm not sure. **

**New readers' opinions are more than welcome, too, of course. **

**Thanks for reading, whoever you are. It's a pleasure to write.**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp**


	5. Hunted

**Disclaimer: No legal rights to this story. Just borrowing ideas.**

* * *

IV.

Hunted

When the outer airlock door had closed, Darden threw off the spacesuit with relief. Her arms and legs ached with the effort of moving it, and with the cold that had gotten into the empty places in it. The intermittent alarm Darden had been hearing since first waking up hours ago was much louder here. This was probably its source.

Darden stretched, and pressed the place on her back where the spacesuit had dug her pack into her spine. Then she withdrew her mining laser, rolled her neck, and opened the door. The com-link had gone dead again. She hoped Atton and Kreia could cope with whatever was happening upstairs.

There were three corpses in the entryway, killed by droids. Darden grimaced. She'd thought that maybe the droids hadn't made it this far back- that all she'd have to do was cope with the gasses the HK unit had mentioned somehow, but obviously she'd been wrong to hope. She searched bodies for any help they could give her. There was a datapad on one of them. It told her that the rogue droids had activated fire suppressant turrets down here and turned them on organics, too. The turrets had stopped some of the miners from finding refuge in the dormitories. They'd stop Darden from getting to the administration officer, if they were still active. Unless she could sneak by them or find some way of shielding herself until she could manually disable them.

Darden stood up straight and took in a breath. And then she started storming the dormitory level, all on her own.

She was able to locate a shield generator that protected her from subzero temperatures for short periods of time in the storage room. There, too, she found a workbench. She was able to modify her mining laser with some of the components there to make it more effective against droids, more like a crude ion blaster with a little extra range. She did some adjustment to the uniform, too, so it fitted her better and offered more protection. It took her about twenty minutes, but Darden was good at improvising weaponry and armor on the fly with scant resources. It had helped her to survive all these years, and she figured survival was worth taking some time out for the workbench.

Better armed and armored, and shielded against the subzero attacks of the fire suppressants, Darden met relatively little resistance as she made her way through the dormitory level. It was divided up into more rooms than the administrative and mining levels had been. This provided Darden with walls and doors to use for cover when the droids attacked. She disabled the droids and turrets easily enough and found the dormitory terminal right away. From there, she was able to end the dormitory lockdown—as well as shut off the ventilation systems that were still venting toxins to the dorms themselves. Darden's finger hesitated over the comm button. Finally, she pressed it.

"Hello? Hello? Come in. This is Darden Leona. Can anyone respond? Repeat: This is Darden Leona, offering assistance out of here. The droids are disabled; the lockdown is over. Can anyone respond? Come in."

Silence crackled over the comm. Darden swallowed. It was the silence of the dead. She stretched out with her sense of the Force, still so new, and listened. All that could be heard were the echoes of dying men and women. There might have been someone to answer yesterday. But there was no one today. Darden really was alone in the facility with Atton Rand and the mysterious Kreia, and whoever had just docked on the _Harbinger_. And a murderous HK-50 droid saboteur that wanted to sell her to the Exchange for some reason, she added mentally.

Still, there were facts to be gathered here. Resources. Maybe supplies. Looking on the map, Darden saw that the mess was on this level. There might be food there uncontaminated by the sabotage of the facility. Darden, Atton, and Kreia would all need that to survive, in or out of this facility. She blinked. Just past the mess was another turbolift. It could get her to the administration level without the necessity of taking another spacewalk back to the fuel depot. Still, she thought she'd probably take the spacewalk. If she got the containment field override codes off the former administration officer—he had to be down here somewhere—she would need to be in the fuel depot to use them, and she couldn't get down there again from the administration level lift. It was still locked down until someone took the turbolift from the fuel depot.

So Darden filed away the information for future-maybe-never reference, and went to the dormitory. It'd be useless to pick up food from the mess and burden herself until she'd done everything she needed to down here.

Darden stepped into the dormitory, and immediately felt like vomiting. The corpses couldn't have been more than two days old, but they absolutely littered the ground. There had to be twenty, thirty people down here that had died caught like rats in a trap. They lay on the ground, unmarked by droids, but with their eyes wide and their faces frozen in horrible simian grimaces, faces that reflected the toxin that had killed them. Not one of them had bothered to carry in a breath mask from the storage room. They had thought they would be safe, locked in here.

Darden gingerly picked her way across the floor, feeling ill. It brought back memories, seeing bodies on the ground like this. Only those ones had been shot, or—or blown to bits, exploded into atoms before they'd known what had hit them. Darden closed her eyes and her knees went weak. Even now, years and years after the fact…she straightened her spine and swallowed hard. She'd done what she'd had to. The war was over. Over and done. She stuck out her chin.

Among the bodies, Darden recognized a few. She'd seen them on the holo-logs upstairs. The medical officer. The docking officer. And, yes, there was the administration officer. She was surprised to find that they had not stopped keeping logs when they came down here. On each body, she found a holo-log recorder. She took them. If they started inquiring what had gone down here when she got out, she wanted to have proof that any sabotage had been enacted when she was still incapacitated in the med bay, and that she had had nothing to do with any deaths here whatsoever.

She found another holo-log at the bottom of the refresher. She fished it out and washed her hands. She plugged all the holo-logs into the reader at the dormitory entrance. One of them was sure to contain the containment field override codes.

Darden listened to them for six, eight, ten minutes. All three of them. But none of them contained the codes for the containment fields. Darden swore, went back to the corpse of the administration officer. Nothing. There was no way she could shut down the fields. Darden stood up, thinking hard.

It didn't necessarily mean she was trapped here, she realized after a moment. Shutting down the containment fields had been Plan A, but she'd noticed back on the depot level that she could bypass them by going through the fuel line, if a ship docked, and retrieve that helpful little T3 unit, besides. And now a ship had docked. Darden took out the holo-logs again and tapped them thoughtfully. She hadn't been paying attention to what they'd said aside from exit codes the first time. But she thought she remembered the administration and the docking officer talking about a different code. The code to unlock the turbolift to administration. She needed to get there, if she was to access the fuel line.

She plugged them in again, and, just for good measure, plugged the one she'd gotten from the fresher in, too. This time, she listened. This time, she listened. If she combined the logs from the docking officer and the communications officer, they pretty much told her the code to end level lockdown and get back upstairs. The fresher log had belonged to the foreman. It was the best piece of evidence she'd gathered so far for her innocence regarding what had happened here on Peragus II. The only piece of evidence she'd gathered that she could take along with her. She shoved the three holo-logs in her pack and set off for the mess and the turbolift.

The administration officer had said there were supplies enough in the dorms to get the miners through a month. Darden couldn't take all that in her little leather pack, especially considering it already contained a couple different varieties of mining equipment, a plasma torch, an extra mining laser, three holo-logs, and a few hundred credits she'd scavenged down here. Darden considered, looking over the mess pantry. Then she sighed, dumped her plasma torch and safety harness out, and jammed as much food as she could in her pack. Ration bars. Three water skins—the flat kind that packed easily and bent around other objects. Three medium sized bags of dried fruit. And then, as much dried meat as she could fit in with the rest. She barely managed to pull the drawstring tight around the top of the pack and snap the flap over it. She swung it over her shoulder then and made for the lift.

She blinked when she saw the four corpses around it. It was Coorta and his cronies. Darden wasn't surprised, though. She'd thought that she might find him here. He hadn't been in the dorm. The administration officer had commented on it. The people in the dorm had incorrectly assumed Coorta had been behind all the sabotage. He had murdered the foreman. The log proved it, but he hadn't sabotaged the facility. Scavenging the corpses, Darden found a holo-log. She used the terminal to slice it. It contained a record of Coorta's collaboration with Reddic Carlisle to work around station security, kidnap her and hightail it with his friends to Nar Shadaa to collect on the Exchange bounty. That is, the voice on the holo-log was Reddic Carlisle's. Closer inspection of the holo-record stored in the lift terminal itself revealed that the HK-50 droid had actually been posing as Reddic Carlisle to draw Coorta and his friend out into a trap. Darden was unsurprised. She downloaded the log onto the dock officer's log—there was some extra space, and she might need the evidence on the HK-50 droid.

The terminal log also revealed that the HK-50 unit had reversed the code Darden had worked out. Darden entered the reverse code into the terminal. The alarm ceased. The turbolift opened.

Darden sighed and looked around at the empty dormitory level. What had happened here was stupid and tragic. If she hadn't come to the facility, none of the deaths here would have occurred. But she knew better than to blame herself at this point. The Exchange had put the bounty on Jedi for reasons of its own. HK-50 and Coorta had acted completely independent of her. They had made their own destructive decisions. She had been first a victim, and then a catalyst for what had happened, and not the cause. She would save her guilt for the deaths and atrocities she had actually perpetrated, and not waste tears now over someone else's bloodbath. But what had happened here still left a sour taste in her mouth.

Darden squared her shoulders then and walked into the turbolift, ready to wade through some fuel lines.

The turbolift door opened to the administration level. Darden blinked. Kreia had left the morgue. The old woman was standing there, as if she had been waiting for her. Perhaps she had been.

"I have felt a disturbance," Kreia announced. "Our enemy is here. We must leave at once."

Darden frowned. The _Harbinger. _She had had a bad feeling when it docked, one that Atton had shared. Down in the fuel depot, HK-50 had told her that though the _Harbinger_ was supposed to be disabled, it had fired upon the _Ebon Hawk_ when it had tried to depart. So who…? "Who are you talking about, Kreia?" Darden asked. "Which enemy?"

"The one that fired upon the _Ebon Hawk_ as we attempted to rescue you," Kreia said, repeating only what Darden had already surmised. "And he will not let us go without blood being shed."

She obviously knew the enemy she spoke of. She just as obviously was unwilling to share the information with Darden. Darden folded her arms and glared at the old woman. "He. You're being very cryptic. What's going on? Who's after us?"

Kreia's hood shifted—Darden got the impression she was shaking her head in impatience. "The story is a long one, and time is short," she told her. "Come—we must go, and quickly."

Darden looked hard at Kreia. The old woman's refusal to answer questions was starting to seem a bit suspicious. How did she know Darden? How had she opened Darden's mind to the Force again? Who was after them, and how did Kreia know them? How had Kreia known Darden was in danger on the _Harbinger_, and why had she rescued her? Had she? Then the old woman shifted and looked over her shoulder nervously.

Darden sighed. She didn't want a fight on more than one front. She knew that whoever had gained control of the _Harbinger_ after HK-50 had sabotaged it was no friend of hers. She knew she had to get away from Peragus II and HK-50. She knew that Kreia, for the moment, shared those goals. For the moment, Kreia was an ally, and her cryptic non-answers and ambiguous motivations were problems for later. So reluctantly, Darden nodded.

"Fine. There's nothing for us here. Everyone is dead, and you're right. It's time to go."

Kreia started moving ahead of Darden. "We need to make our way to the docking area on this level," she said. "I fear the airlock has already opened, and if so, we must be on our guard. If we cannot reach the _Ebon Hawk_, then we must find a way to escape on the ship that has docked here."

"The only way to reach the _Ebon Hawk_ is by boarding the ship that's docked here," Darden replied. "I've ended lockdown on every level—we could probably get to the fuel depot from here, but the containment codes are lost and the containment fields would still cut us off from the hangar."

Kreia nodded, but she wasn't really listening. She fidgeted with a sword and kept looking over her shoulder. Darden didn't know where she had found the sword. She didn't ask. Kreia was setting a fierce pace for an old woman that had seemed so frail earlier. It wasn't long before they had arrived at the administration terminal.

Atton was still there. He was shifting from foot to foot, looking all around like he wanted to do something but wasn't sure what _to_ do. When he caught sight of Darden and Kreia, for a moment he looked relieved, and then he looked annoyed.

"What in space is going on?" he demanded. "Who's this? Another Jedi? What, did you guys suddenly start breeding when I wasn't looking?"

"How?" Darden asked. "Asexually, through the Force? Haven't managed that one yet. Probably won't, seeing as I'm _not_ a Jedi. Her name's Kreia. Kreia, this is Atton Rand."

Kreia was fidgeting, still. Darden looked at her, then cut Atton off as he opened his mouth to retort.

"Look, there's no time. Just—"she dug through her pack and pulled out her extra mining laser. She handed it over. "Come on. We're leaving."

Atton blinked. "Uh…all right. I'm guessing that Republic ship that docked isn't carrying friends of yours." He holstered the laser.

"I hope your talent for understatement is offset by your skill with a blaster," Kreia said. "If not, then I fear our time together will be short indeed."

Darden looked sharply at Kreia. So did Atton. He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, and I'm also good at running and drinking, Your Majesty," he said nastily. He added to Darden, "Did you find a way to disable those containment fields?"

Darden shook her head. "No."

"Then that warship's the only way off this station," Atton said grimly. "Good thing we have a clear run to the—"

He cut off as the three of them heard a clanking noise. They turned. HK-50 had left the fuel depot, and now, he clutched a blaster rifle in durasteel fingers. Darden shot a look over her shoulder at Atton. He nodded once, but his eyes were angry.

"Threat:" the HK-unit threatened, "Master, perhaps I did not enunciate clearly the last time we spoke. I suggested that you should shut down, stay put, and wait for rescue."

Darden laughed. "Yeah. That was going to happen. Actually, droid, I think you were clearer than you meant to be. Let me be clear now: I don't listen to the 'suggestions' of mass-murdering assassin droids."

HK-50's gears whirred. "Clarification:" he said after a moment. "Assassin droid is such a crude term, Master, reserved for durasteel drones uploaded with only the most archaic kill-programs. The function I perform has been referred to as 'wanton slaughter'. I prefer to see it as a means of facilitating communication, resulting in the termi—"

"The termination of hostilities," Darden finished for him. "No. Actually, I think 'wanton slaughter' is a pretty accurate descriptor. Or genocide." She nodded at the droid and added to her companions, "Everything that's happened here was down to him. Even the miners murdered in the med bay, I think."

"Indignant Answer: Master, the miners intended to place you in jeopardy," HK-50 said in wounded tones. "I could not allow that to take place, so I was forced to negotiate a termination of hostilities. After reprogramming the mining droids to 'mine' any organics they perceived, they began to kill the miners one by one. Then a series of flawlessly timed explosions drove the miners into their dormitories—where I was able to gas them all at once without wasting time hunting them through the mining tunnels. I then administered a large dose of sedative to the remaining miners in the med bay, enough to kill them but ensure you slept peacefully. Of course, against my calculations, you awakened from your tank prematurely. I am ashamed by the inconvenience that caused both of us."

Atton was looking a bit sick. Kreia was impassive. Darden Leona, however, found herself getting angry. "Spare me such consideration. Those droids tried to kill me, too. That would've spoiled your bounty, all right."

"Answer:" the droid said, "You misunderstand me, Master. The droids were there to guard you. As I said, I did not anticipate you awakening from the tank. You are quite a hardy specimen for a Jedi, a ronto among humans, if you will indulge me the metaphor. Besides, as you proved, Master, such droids could never pose a threat to a Jedi…the droids were custodial in nature, cleaning the facility of other distractions."

Darden wanted to ask HK-50 why he was doing this, who had hired him, and what possible temptation a droid could have to go bounty hunting. But Kreia was shifting uneasily again. Her agitation was leaking over into Darden's head. And truthfully, HK-50 had disgusted her. She had wanted to disable him before. Now, with two companions and an ionized weapon…

"Distractions," she muttered. "About a hundred people. Maybe more. Force, you are a piece of work." Then, more loudly, "I'm not your bounty, droid. I'm leaving now, and if I have to go through you to do it, so be it."

"Resignation:" said HK-50 gleefully. "Very well, Master. If inflicting pain is the only means to resolve this matter, then you leave me no choice."

He lowered his blaster rifle, and Darden ducked, rolled, and came up firing. To her surprise, Atton did the same. Darden thought that the droid might have left—well, at least Atton alone if he'd got her. HK-50 was pretty steamed at Kreia. But Atton wasn't a rival. He didn't want to capture her. The droid's Exchange contacts might take him on when they left here, and he'd escape all the same.

She kept firing. HK-50's armor was well-put together. Kreia reached out her hand and Darden felt the energy flowing from it, seeking to overload the assassin's receptors. HK-50 dodged and turned his rifle on Kreia, but the distraction had let Darden get behind him. She fired her laser right into his motivational core at the base of his neck. Sparks flew out, and his head bowed. His arms relaxed, and his blaster rifle dropped down. Darden took it from him. "Anybody want this?" she said. It was a bit too big and clumsy to be much use to a person her size.

Kreia didn't answer, and Atton shook his head. "Check his core. Might find out who sent that mouthy psychopath. Some clue."

Darden nodded. "Pretty sure the Exchange sent him. Don't know how, though. He didn't act like an ordinarily owned droid. Too independent. Didn't take orders. Took too much initiative, and talked about a bounty. What pay could you offer a droid?" She shook her head wonderingly and kicked the useless chassis over. She was able to salvage a few parts from the model, and an HK vocabulator. Maybe she'd head down to the black market of the next planet she hit. Ask about the HK line.

She stood up and opened her pack and looked down in annoyance. It was full to bursting already. Atton sighed. "Toss 'em here." He held up a pack. "Got it off a corpse up here while I was waiting around wondering if you'd been shot up by crazy droids yet."

Darden handed him the parts. "Thanks."

"We must hurry," Kreia insisted. "There is no time to waste."

"Yeah, sure," Darden said. "Let's go."

She led the way towards the docking port. No one stopped her. Nothing happened. They crossed over into the _Harbinger_ with no problems. The minute they did, though, Darden went still, listening. She could hear nothing. Silence, everywhere. The exact same silence she had heard in the mining station. The silence of the dead, with an added dimension of menace, of something waiting for her.

Kreia summed up her feelings. "Something is wrong," she croaked. "I sense no one on board."

It was too much for Atton. "'You sense no one on board'? Sense any assassin droids creeping up on us like last time?"

Kreia's hood turned on Atton, then away. Darden could feel her contempt. "Everyone here has been slain," Kreia told Darden, "Yet there are few signs of battle, no carbon scoring, no blaster fire. This place has been hit by assassins of a different sort."

"Then what are we doing on this ship?" Atton demanded. "We were better off in the facility! You two are supposed to be Jedi? You two are the worst Jedi I've ever met!"

He was jumpy, looking all around, glaring by turns at Kreia and Darden. Darden took a deep breath to keep her temper and avoid snapping that she wasn't a Jedi, and hadn't been for years, and knew as little as he did about what had happened here. "Calm down," she said. "Panic and accusations don't solve anything, Atton. We need a plan."

"If what you have told me is correct, then we cannot reach the hangar by going back through the facility," Kreia said. "Be silent, I need some time to think."

Her imperious manner irked Darden in a way Atton's fearful and angry accusations had not. "I will not be silent—I have a plan, okay? Listen—we can bypass the force field to the hangar by getting to the engine room on this ship, then exiting through the fuel pipe."

Atton snorted. "Yeah, crawling through the fuel pipe. Assuming we can shut down the actual fuel, avoid the fumes—you know, just discounting for a moment how _crazy_ that is, even if you got to the ship you came in on, it wouldn't matter. You'll need the orbital drift charts to clear the Peragus asteroid field, unless you want to have the shortest flight out of Peragus ever recorded."

Darden was annoyed. She'd done it _again_. Focused so much on the plan, on the way out, that she'd neglected to consider all the aspects of the situation. "Well, if you have an idea, be my guest!" she snapped ungraciously.

"The two of you—be silent!" Kreia ordered.

Darden turned to her. "I am doing my _best _here, Kreia." She sighed. "You're right, though, Atton. No one's going anywhere without those drift charts."

Atton's posture relaxed a very little. "Look. This ship—they probably have the latest asteroid drift charts in their navicomputer. They'd have to."

"So we focus on one problem at a time, right?" Darden asked both her companions. "We get the departure codes. Otherwise getting to the hangar means nothing." She gave Atton a little nod. Kreia had started listening again. Darden felt less annoyance from her.

"Well, we could get the codes on the bridge. I mean…well…that's the biggest problem I can see," Atton admitted.

"That is a sound plan, for the moment," Kreia said, nodding. She shifted. "But our enemies gather while we wait here."

Darden couldn't sense these enemies. She didn't know what Kreia was talking about. But she did sense Kreia's anxiety, mounting by the second. So she started walking again. "Wherever they are. Okay. This way to the bridge. I was on this ship, for a while. We'll grab the drift charts like Atton suggested and hightail it out of here for Kreia. Everybody happy?"

Atton shook his head. He was starting to look nervous, too, come to think of it. "This won't end well, trust me," he said.

Darden wished these enemies and uncomfortable feelings would show up, already. All she could see was corpses, but tensions were mounting and she felt like she was being watched. The _Harbinger_ had to have someone alive on board in order to have docked. She pressed her lips together and squared her shoulders and didn't say anything, though. Kreia was nervous. Atton was scared. She didn't want to make things worse.

Every now and then, Atton would stop by a locker or a corpse to grab something. Some credits. Some food. He found a couple of Republic-issue blasters which he and Darden exchanged their mining lasers for, and a vibrosword better than Kreia's weapon. Darden didn't stop him. They'd need all the supplies they could find.

But with every delay, Kreia grew jumpier and jumpier, and just before they got to the bridge, her fears were confirmed.

They came out of nowhere. One moment Darden and her companions were alone on a ghost ship. The next four people, hooded and masked, had materialized around them. It was stealth technology like she had never seen before, and what's more, she hadn't felt them through the Force. They all carried double swords, as silent as themselves, and they attacked without a word.

Only years of living on the Rim saved Darden from that first swipe. She ducked and kicked the first man's feet out from under him. He went down with a grunt and she shot him twice—once through the head and once through the heart. She whirled, shooting one of the two that had ganged up on Kreia, punching another coming up behind her in the throat. Atton shot him in the back as Kreia ran her other assailant through.

For a moment, Darden just stood there, looking down at the four bodies. Then she knelt beside one of them. He was wearing an ornament around his neck—a symbol of Korriban. She dropped it. "Sith," she said quietly. She didn't look up, but out of the corner of her eye she saw that Atton had paled, and his lips had gone tight, and Kreia's expression had not changed. Darden filed both reactions away for future reference.

"Let us hurry," Kreia said.

"Yeah," Darden replied, standing. "Everyone alright?"

"Fine," Atton said. "Let's just get out of here."

Without a word, Darden entered the bridge. The corpses were thicker here. Darden ignored them, and picked her way through to the navicomputer. She considered briefly, then brought out a datapad she had on her from the workroom back in the mining station. She downloaded the drift charts over the information Reddic Carlisle had recorded there regarding his sonic sensor, and placed the datapad back in her pack. Then, because she wanted to know, she accessed the logs.

The holo-log of Captain Reinald appeared over the display. Darden frowned, and looked over to her right. His corpse was there. He'd been a decent enough sort. Darden and her companions watched the record as Reinald explained the distress signal he'd received from the _Ebon Hawk_ a few days ago. It had been attacked by a Sith warship. They'd cleared with command, then gone to the freighter's aid. They'd boarded both vessels. There had been no one alive on the freighter, and only one man on the Sith warship—one so badly injured they'd thought him dead and taken him to the med bay for examination. The last log said that right after that, things had begun to go wrong, not only with the ship's systems. It ended with a transmission from the med bay. A scream, and then a voice, a deep, broken, gravelly, dead voice. "I have come for the Jedi."

Darden looked over at Kreia. Kreia looked back at her—at least, her head turned and Darden got the feeling the old woman was regarding her from beneath her hood. But Kreia said nothing. Atton raised an eyebrow. "You've been in trouble for a few days, haven't you, Leona?" he said.

"Apparently so," she replied. "Let's go."

She led the way out the other side of the bridge, towards where she thought the engine room might be. The other two followed without comment. Just outside the bridge, Darden got a funny feeling. She looked off to her left and caught a shimmer in the air. "Sith!" she cried out.

The assassins materialized, but Darden already had her weapons up, as did her friends. There were four of them again, but this time, with a split-second's warning, Darden thought that the droids back in the mining facility had been a little harder to take down. She frowned as she cut them down and they lay at her feet. "Let's keep moving," she said. Something about the Sith's weakness struck her as suspicious. Unorganized ex-Sith she'd met on the Rim were usually much tougher, if not near so hard to spot.

She led them through the bowels of the _Harbinger_. She stopped twice. Once in the conference room, with the communications console that would have allowed Captain Reinald to talk to Republic command. The console still contained records of the transmissions he had sent to command in the last week.

She accessed the records. Kreia fidgeted, and Atton looked over his shoulder, but neither complained as she watched them. Darden guessed they figured she had a right to determine what had happened to her in the past several days. She determined, among other things, that she had diplomatic level priority, and that the HK-50 unit had been telling the truth when he'd told her that he had served Reinald as a protocol droid. He'd been sent to check on her shortly after the last transmission, the one where Reinald had been cleared to aid the _Ebon Hawk_ in its battle with the ghost Sith warship. From Darden's sketchy memories of her last minutes on the _Harbinger_, she gathered that HK-50 had not done as ordered. She had never seen the droid before their interaction on Peragus. He must have schemed to incapacitate her in some way she hadn't connected with him at the time right after Reinald had informed him of her existence.

Darden tapped her finger on the console, thinking.

"What is it?" Atton asked. "The transmission is over."

"I think I really must be the last one," she said quietly. "The Republic—they think I'm the only Jedi left out there. The only one they can get, anyway. That's why they were so desperate to get me back to the Republic." She snorted. "Because the Republic's leaned on the Jedi so long, and they're so weak right now…" she trailed off. "If I'm the best they can get, they really are in bad shape."

"That's true," Atton said flatly. "But shouldn't we be going? Or was there something else?"

Darden tried not to feel defensive at Atton's easy agreement to her poor self-evaluation. "Yeah," she said, moving towards the door again. "That officer from Republic Command. Reinald's boss Admiral Onasi. I feel like I should _know_ him. He's familiar, somehow. Like I've heard his name before, or seen him somewhere."

"You really have been out of it for a long time, haven't you?" Atton said. He paused, looking straight ahead. "Sith!"

Darden ducked a blade and fired. The next two minutes they fought the masked assassins. When the battle was over, Atton continued as if they'd never been interrupted. "Admiral Carth Onasi. Got promoted after the Jedi Civil War. Cross of Glory and a whole lot of other medals for stupidi—for valor and stuff. He was the pilot that they say flew Revan in to kill Malak in the final battle."

Darden snapped her fingers. "That's it! With that old man—Juddy Bindle or something—"

"Jolee Bindo," Kreia said in an irritated tone. "Yes, he was an interesting one."

"I met him out on the Rim a couple years back," Darden said. "I told you, Atton—it was the best news I'd had of news back in Republic space for years. He was with his Padawan, or something, this kid—he'd known Revan, too—Onasi!" she said again. "That was it! The kid was related to the Admiral, somehow. That's how I remembered him, but there was more. That _ship. _The _Ebon Hawk. _The Admiral was pretty anxious to get it, don't you think? There was something important about that ship you want us to escape on, Kreia."

Atton looked interested. "Where'd it come from, anyway? The Unknown Regions? Why would the Republic want it? How would they even know?"

"We waste time with idle questions," Kreia snapped finally. "Your foolish prattle draws our enemies to us. Be silent, and let us move faster."

They had been walking ever since the Sith attack, but Darden knew she was right. If there were more of the Sith about, they would hear Darden talking and find them faster. So she filed the problem away under a growing list of things to investigate later.

The second time they stopped was when they came out of the office section of the ship and to the dormitory. Darden stopped suddenly before one of the doors.

"Are you all right?" Kreia asked. It wasn't a real question. Darden felt the old woman's presence at the back of her mind, and knew that she knew.

"These were my quarters," she told them both.

"This was your room?" Atton asked with interest. "When?"

Darden snorted. "Before that droid knocked me out, Kreia 'rescued' me off the ship, and I woke up on Peragus," she told him.

Kreia did not comment on Darden's emphasis. "We do not have much time," she said again. "Whatever you intend to do, do it quickly."

As a matter of fact, the only thing Darden intended to do was to grab her actual things. They were still in the footlocker in her quarters, untouched. Her clothes, loose-fitting and gray to avoid attracting the attention of passers-by. A few credits. A couple droid parts she'd been tinkering with to pass the time. And her own pack, bigger, more worn than the one from the mining station, with lots of handy pockets. She'd organize her new gear and supplies into it later. For now, Darden simply stuffed the mining pack into her own with the clothes and credits and swung the bag over her shoulder. But before she turned to go she caught sight of a datapad on the foot of the bunk.

With a sudden rush of memory, Darden remembered finding the datapad outside her door almost four days ago. A request to report to the med bay. Darden had thought it little more than a standard check-up. She'd been on the Rim a long time. Before she landed on Telos under Republic protection in a Republic ship, they were bound to want to make sure she was in good health, wasn't carrying any strange diseases from off-world, and had been immunized against the local ones. She'd reported to the med bay. And then she'd woken up in a dead mining facility this morning.

Darden left the datapad and exited her old quarters. "Come on," she said.

If she remembered right, they'd have to go through the med bay to get to the engine room, anyway. Maybe they'd still have some records of what had happened. Further proof if anyone ever asked her what had occurred here on Peragus that she hadn't been responsible for any of it.

"Got everything, then, Leona? Blaster, clothes…underwear?" Atton asked.

Kreia sniffed. "Fool."

Darden didn't answer either of them. She tensed as she felt the spike in adrenaline and saw the shimmer. "Weapons up!"

They were attacked twice more by parties of Sith before they got to the med bay. Darden was getting tired. She'd had little food and no natural sleep in three days. She didn't have a chrono, but she guessed that by now she'd been exploring a dead mining station, fighting droids, exploring a dead ship, fighting Sith, and trying to figure out what the hell was going on for about eight hours straight. She needed a good square meal and about ten hours real sleep. But before she could address those needs, she needed a safe place to address them.

Nevertheless, when the three of them got to the med bay, Darden stopped. Glass littered the floor from where a kolto tank had been broken. From the inside. Darden had been inside those things. The glass was three centimeters thick, and concave from the inside. On the outside with a weapon it wouldn't be much of a feat to break one. On the inside and unarmed…

"Wow," Atton said. But Kreia only nodded.

Darden, unnerved, called up the records from the med bay console. She was able to determine that, yes, as she had suspected, three and a half days ago she had been administered with a lethal dose of sedatives. She shook her head. HK-50 was very predictable. She guessed that was a good thing. If there were other units out there, it meant they'd be easier to beat.

She called up the camera records. That Sith—the one they'd gotten from the phantom war ship. He'd been brought here, but when he had been, they had discovered that he wasn't actually dead. They didn't know how he had survived. His skin was torn and cracked and scarred and scarred again. His skeleton was fractured in innumerable places. The medical officer had left notes that said so. And there he was, in that kolto tank. Atton whistled.

"Well. There's _one _guy that won't be winning Mr. Galaxy any time soon," he cracked.

"No kidding," Darden said under her breath.

Kreia shifted. "Do not be an imbecile," she told Atton. "And do not underestimate this man. Watch the recording."

Darden and Atton watched as the broken man twitched in his tank. The kolto drained out of it, but he continued to float. The medical officer, passing in front of him, began to cower. Darden saw her mouth open in a silent scream. The glass burst open and the broken man jumped out of the tank. He looked at the corpse of the medical officer. She had been pierced and slashed in a dozen places by the broken glass, and lay quivering on the floor. He kicked her once, viciously. Then he stood up and walked to the console. Darden knew it had been transmitting to the bridge, because she had listened to the recording. And when the man opened his cracked and bloodless lips, she knew what he had said, though the camera transmitted no sound.

_I have come for the Jedi._

The recording ended. Darden took a deep breath.

She let it out, but it came out rattling, weak. "Let's go," she murmured.

"Yeah," Atton said.

They left the med bay, heading towards the engine room. The lights were flickering in this part of the ship. Darden reflected that this is probably where HK-50 had done the most damage with his sabotage. But Atton looked around.

"I have a bad feeling about this," he muttered.

"What's wrong?" Darden asked him.

"Don't you feel it?" Atton demanded. "Something's gonna get real wrong, real quick."

"Things have been real wrong all day," Darden said. "Unless it's more assassins—it'll be harder to spot them in the dark—is it more assassins?"

Atton shook his head. He looked as if he were listening for something. "I don't know what it is," he said finally. Kreia watched him. Her expression was unreadable. "But you don't survive on the Rim as long as I have without knowing when trouble's coming."

Darden thought about that. "I suppose you don't. Or how to avoid it…we'll be as careful as we can be. But we _have _to keep moving. These Sith—there's no way of knowing how many snuck onto the Harbinger off that Sith war ship."

"All right," Atton said. "But don't say I didn't warn you. Trust me, when it comes to staying alive, I'm rarely wrong about these things."

"We're almost there, though," Darden said. She hesitated, then reached up and patted Atton's shoulder. It was no more than she would have done for any jumpy soldier under her command, back in the day, and it forcefully reminded her of those times. Atton looked sharply down at her, but he didn't say anything. They kept moving.

They'd reached the back of the _Harbinger_ now. Darden knew the layout of this ship model. She knew the engine room—and the fuel pipe- were no more than a hop, skip, and a jump away. She opened the door, ready to take the three of them left and find the fueling terminal. But there was someone to the right in the dimly flickering lights. The light flickered, and Darden saw a face crisscrossed and cracked with innumerable wounds and scars. Yellow eyes glared at them in the dark.

_I have come for the Jedi. _

There wasn't a doubt in Darden Leona's mind that the man waiting for them, the man that couldn't possibly be alive, was the one that commanded the Sith assassins that had been attacking her since she stepped foot on this vessel. He had to be a Sith Lord, survived from the Jedi Civil War. He just had to be. And he, like the Republic, thought she was the last of the Jedi.

Kreia gripped Darden's shoulder with her left hand, stopped her from walking to meet him. "This battle is mine alone," she said. "I am not defenseless. He cannot kill what he cannot see, and power has blinded him long ago." She squeezed Darden's shoulder and ran forward with a speed that surprised her. "Run!" she called back over her shoulder. "I will be along shortly." The door that separated the maintenance area on the _Harbinger_ from the engine room shut, cutting Kreia and the Sith Lord off from Darden and Atton.

Darden stared, completely flummoxed, at the door for a time. But she had been a general. She knew a feint when she saw one. "Come on, Atton," she said.

She ran towards the engine room, stopping only twice. Once, to shut down the fueling of the _Harbinger_. And again, to open the maintenance shaft that would gain her and Atton access to the fuel pipe.

Atton stopped just before they entered. "Wait—you were serious back there? No way. Tell me you're joking. We are not going to cross back into the Peragus facility through the fuel line. That's crazy. It was crazy then—it's crazy now."

"Look," Darden said shortly. "We get through the fuel line—we're basically in the facility hangar. Home free. We don't have time to go back and work out something else. Just come on, trust me."

Atton looked hard at her. Then he nodded. "All right, but I know I'm going to regret this."

Darden sighed, trying not to think about what was happening to Kreia. "Look on the bright side. You're getting to know me better all the time. Brave, stupid, idiotic, and yes, sometimes crazy. Back then—I used to tell my soldiers: Sometimes the only way to survive, the only way to win, is to do something incredibly insane and catch the enemy completely off guard."

"Back then," Atton repeated as they entered the fuel pipe. It was warm and they started to sweat. Darden could smell the fuel, like in the tunnels below the mining facility. She quickened her pace. "You mean in the Mandalorian Wars. You had soldiers?"

"All the Jedi did," Darden said shortly. "Watch your head. The ceiling's low. The maintenance lamps aren't near strong enough to give an accurate idea of the dimensions in here."

* * *

ON THE _HARBINGER_

The broken man who called himself Sion now peered 'round in the darkness. He was angry. Even now the Jedi was escaping. The last Jedi. He could feel her faint energy, her pain, getting ever farther away.

He had had a moment's glimpse of her, before _She _had intervened and closed the door. Such a small, insignificant thing to carry such hurt inside. How strong it had made her. She didn't even know. He had seen the fear, the confusion, the loss in her wide green eyes for one delicious moment. Then she had gone. The Exile would escape. He sensed it would be so, thanks to Her.

A wave of rage filled the man who called himself Sion. He embraced it, let it flow through him. And he spoke into the dark. "I sense you, my master. Faint. Weak."

Her voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere, mocking him. "Your senses betray you. As you betrayed me."

How he hated her. "After all that has happened, still you live. You are difficult to kill."

"For one as limited as you, perhaps. To have fallen so far and learned nothing—that is your failing."

Her voice was clinical, evaluative, as if this was another of Her tests that he had failed. He reached out to the Dark, searching for Her. "The failure is yours," he taunted Her. "No longer do your whispers crawl inside my skull. No longer do I suffer beneath teachings that weaken us. And now you run in search of the Jedi. They are all dead, save one—and one broken Jedi cannot stop the darkness that is to come."

"Perhaps. We shall see."

He sensed Her, then, not in the Darkness, in its absence. There was a place on this forsaken vessel, just to his right, where there was Nothing. Not Dark, Not Light, just emptiness, contempt, and quiet despair. He reveled in it, and struck out with his lightsaber. The red light arced in the Dark.

* * *

Halfway to the mining facility, Darden Leona cried out and collapsed in a fuel pipe, clutching her hand.

* * *

**A/N: Liking this chapter a little better that the last. I'm getting more of a sense of Darden as a character, and more opportunities for original dialogue and interesting character reflection. In the next chapter, this story gets off the ground in more ways than one. **

**Reviews make my day!**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp**


	6. Allies

**Disclaimer: Original dialogue is still stuck in a game I can't claim credit for!**

* * *

V.

Allies

Darden yelled and clutched her hand. She stumbled. Nerve endings screamed as they were cut off—it felt like her hand had been dipped in molten carbonite—but the nerve endings screaming weren't _hers_. She hit the floor of the fuel line.

Atton turned. "Wh—what's wrong? Are you all right?" He swung an arm around her shoulders and half-picked her up. "Dammit, hold on! It's only a little further. Don't give up on me now!"

Darden bit her tongue hard enough to make it bleed, filling her head with her _own_ pain. "No—I'm fine—it's…"

She could barely stand, Kreia's pain filled her head. She allowed Atton to half-drag her a few paces, frantically trying to remember how to cut off her consciousness from another Force Sensitive. She built a wall in her head, clumsily. Her hand still tingled, but she could breathe again. She straightened and threw off Atton's arm. "I'm _fine, _Rand."

"What happened to you?" he asked. He didn't even try to disguise the concern in his voice this time. Darden glanced at him.

"It's Kreia—she's been wounded. Badly."

"How do you know that?"

Darden massaged her hand and kept walking. "I just do, okay?"

"Look, if she's in pain, then that pain's buying us time we can't afford to waste," Atton said. "Especially if sleeps-with-vibroblades gets tired of playing with her and decides to use us for practice next."

Darden pressed her lips together. That was a woman's life Atton was talking about so casually. But he had a point. "Then we should walk faster," she said.

Atton shot her a doubtful glance. "Will you—"

She interrupted him. "I'm fine, Atton! Just—keep going."

In fact Darden was more than a little disturbed. The Force still was only ringing in her ears, like some half-forgotten song, but she had obviously bonded with Kreia. And the bond was strong. Behind her new mental wall, she knew Kreia was hurting still. Hurting a lot. If she took down the wall, that pain would seep over the link and she would feel it again. If something worse happened to Kreia—Darden had a feeling she would feel every blow. She didn't tell Atton. She only quickened her pace.

The fuel line was dark and smelly and cramped, but Darden and Atton all but ran along it. Before too long they reached the door to the Peragus fuel depot, and right in front of it was a metal case and—

"It's a utility droid," Atton said. "Looks like it's been hit with an ion charge and dumped here."

"It's T3-M4," Darden told him. "Remember? He got us off the admin level."

She knelt before the droid and tapped its casing lightly. There was a sleepy, sick beeping, and his sensors lit up. Gears whirred, and Darden knew he was performing a diagnostic. Then his head twisted left, then right again. He caught sight of her and burst into an indignant astromech tirade.

She smiled. "Yeah. We ran into the protocol droid earlier. He attacked us, too."

T3-M4 let off a long, forlorn whistle, then started chirping. His casing parted and a shock arm and a blaster came out then went back in. He whistled again. He was sorry he had not detected HK-50 earlier. He said if he had been able to take out the intruder Darden's safety would not have been compromised and she and her companion would have been able to join him on this level in a much more efficient manner. Darden smiled and patted the droid's casing.

"Don't blame yourself, okay? If you hadn't gotten us off the admin level we never would have made it this far."

The droid chirped, indicating that, nevertheless, he would like to make it up to her. He said she was nice, and asked that if she was leaving the facility, could he please come along?

Darden looked the droid over. He had been helpful thus far, and she felt he owed him. Anyway, he was kind of cute. "Sure, you can come," she told him. "Happy to have you. Come on."

"So we have a droid now," Atton said. "Fabulous."

"Get over it, Atton," Darden said. "We owe him, and he might be useful once we get to the ship."

"Sure. And ronto might fly," Atton muttered. "Look, there was this case next to him. Like it'd been dumped, too. Has a door conduit in it. It looks important."

"Keep it. We might need it," Darden told him. Atton slipped the conduit into his bag and he and Teethree followed her out of the fuel line and into the facility again.

There were still droids here. But with Teethree and Atton and real blasters, they didn't present much of a challenge. Darden burned her way straight through the half of the depot that she hadn't already. She looked at the containment fields and beyond them towards maintenance. "What I wouldn't have given to be standing here four hours ago," she muttered.

Atton heard her. "Yeah. You and me both, Leona."

They headed for the hangar, through the decontamination room. Atton was able to shut down the vents so they could get through the room safely. On the other side, Atton ran straight for the hangar. He pulled on the access panel, then cried out in frustration.

"This door's magnetically sealed. I can't believe this! The ship's right out there, and we can't get to it."

Teethree rolled up to Darden and looked up at her and beeped.

"Huh? What is that piece of junk saying?" Atton demanded.

"Its designation is T3-M4, Atton," Darden told him calmly. "Hand over that conduit, will you?"

Atton did so without a word. Darden gave the part to Teethree. He took it in an extendable claw. "Well?" Darden said. "Go and open it, then."

Atton shook his head as Teethree rolled away beeping happily. "How can you even understand that noise?"

"I sort of learned astromech in self-defense," Darden told him. "I served with a lot of utility droids in the—but never mind that. The point is we can get to the _Ebon Hawk_."

"He can't slice the door fast enough for me," Atton said. "I think your friends are coming for us. I've got that bad feeling again."

The door opened and Atton led the way running to the _Ebon Hawk_. Darden followed him. He was right. She could hear booted feet running from the direction of the depot. Many booted feet.

The ramp was open. The ship had been repaired. Darden didn't waste time wondering how. She just ran, hitting the button for the boarding ramp to ascend after her and Teethree.

Atton was already in the pilot's seat, pressing buttons. Darden opened her pack and tossed him the datapad containing the asteroid drift charts. He caught it mid-air and called back over his shoulder. "Quick! We're going to need some time to fire up the engines. Let's give the laser turret a workout."

Darden nodded and slipped behind him and climbed the ladder to the turret.

The Sith were storming the hangar. These were in heavier armor than their friends from the _Harbinger._ They weren't worrying about stealth anymore. They knew she knew they were there. They just wanted to stop her leaving. Darden punched the button to activate the turret. It hummed to life and the targeting computer came on, but Darden didn't need it. She could see them running into the room. She fired.

Again and again she fired, swiveling her chair and the turret to get each and every Sith. She watched them fall around her and felt the ship rumble to life beneath her. Out the turret window, she saw the air lock open as the Peragus facility sensed an active ship. The three or four Sith Darden hadn't shot were sucked out into empty space.

"All right, let's get out of here!" Atton cried.

Darden left the turret and swung into the co-pilot's seat. "What do I need to—"

A flash of brown caught the corner of her eye, and she whirled. Kreia was there, grasping her arm. Her mouth was tight with pain. "Kreia! Where'd you come from?" She stopped. The arm Kreia was clutching ended in a cauterized stump. Darden smelled burned flesh. Kreia's left hand was gone—the same hand that Darden had felt such agonizing pain in ten minutes ago. "Your hand…"

"There is no time," Kreia grit out between her teeth. "We must leave."

Atton flew them out of the Peragus mining facility and into the asteroid field. At first, Darden thought they were safe, but then she heard beeping from the piloting computer.

She called up the radar on the co-pilot's console. "The _Harbinger_! They're firing on us!"

Atton swore viciously in a language Darden didn't know. And that was saying something. He jerked the controls around an asteroid and punched the burn.

In the next few seconds, Darden could tell that she'd lucked out. Whatever else he might be, Atton Rand was a superb pilot. He took them around asteroids and made pinpoint turns, evading the larger Republic vessel. But they weren't losing them. The radar kept beeping.

"If they hit us, we're dead!" Atton muttered, "But if they keep missing us, we're dead. That's great odds."

Teethree beeped from the back. Darden felt a little sick as the droid told Atton those weren't good odds at all, and that according to Atton's calculations there was a one hundred percent probability of their imminent demise, and maybe he'd missed something…?

"Somebody shut that trash compactor up!" Atton growled, pulling them up and under an asteroid right before it blew them to bits and immediately jerking them right to avoid more shots by the _Harbinger_.

"You're doing fine," Darden told him, in as calm a voice as she could manage under the circumstances. "Just keep avoiding them."

"I'm doing all I can, and that's not enough," Atton snapped. "What did you do to make these guys so mad? Now either they hit us and destroy us, or they hit an asteroid and make the whole field go nova!"

"Just keep your distance," Darden told him, staring at the radar readout. "We're smaller than they are. Faster. We can outrun them. Minute we do, jump to hyperspace."

Kreia was leaning against the wall. She rasped, "What of the asteroids? They can be destroyed by us as well as by them, can they not?"

Atton steered them under another asteroid. "That'll take out the whole field, the colony, and maybe us. We might not even be able to jump to hyperspace in time."

"Then we die here," Kreia said flatly. She looked at Darden. "Choose now."

Teethree beeped something, but Darden wasn't listening. She reached out with all that she could feel of the Force. Somehow, she felt that they'd get out of this. They'd have to go to the Republic about what had happened here, about the Sith. She imagined explaining that they had destroyed the Peragus II fuel facility and took a deep, shuddering breath as the beeps rang out from the radar. The _Harbinger _was still firing.

She reached over the aisle and grabbed Atton's shoulder. "Keep out of their way. Left—and—punch it, Rand!"

As she cried out, the _Harbinger_'s lasers hit an asteroid. The fuel in it ignited and the field around them did, too. Atton punched the button to make the jump to hyperspace. He gave the controls one last jerk, and Darden Leona saw the flames go up around them, then elongate, and then disappear as they left the destruction of Peragus behind them in normal space.

The whiteness of hyperspace surrounded the _Ebon Hawk _and its little crew. For a long time, nobody said anything. Atton pressed a few buttons, and breathed out. He swiveled his chair around.

"Well. Now that we just killed a _planet. _Maybe one of you can tell me what's going on. Because between assassin droids, a Sith Lord that looks like he sleeps with vibroblades, and being target practice for a Republic war ship, I was better off in my cell."

Darden laughed. She couldn't help it. She collapsed into the back of the co-pilot's chair and laughed until her sides hurt and tears leaked out of her eyes. "This _day,_" she gasped. "Just—we're alive! Do you know how amazing that is?"

"I'm not kidding!" Atton snapped. "I want to know what's going on!"

"The Republic war ship was the _Harbinger_," Kreia said unnecessarily. "It was seized on its way to Telos by the Sith—they sought you, Jedi."

Darden swiveled to look at her. Kreia was standing straight now, though she still clutched her arm. "Yeah. I'm getting that. I spend a few years out on the Rim and come back, and everyone from droids to miners to freaky stealth Sith assassins seem to be 'seeking' me. Atton—I don't know why, okay? Kreia, why are the Sith after me?"

"Because you are the last of the Jedi," she said levelly. "Once you are dead, then they have won."

Suddenly, Darden wasn't laughing anymore. She was angry. Very angry. "They think I'm it, too? Dammit, I'm an exile! I haven't felt the Force in years, even! Not 'til I woke up today!"

Atton looked at her sharply, but Kreia replied evenly, "Exile or not, the Sith believe you to be a Jedi Knight, and that is all that matters."

Darden slammed her hand down on the dash. "What happened to the others?" she demanded. "Why am I stuck with this?"

Kreia took a deep breath. "The Jedi Civil War destroyed the Jedi. By the war's end, barely one hundred Jedi remained. Many fell in battle, and many more were seduced by Revan's teachings."

"But those one hundred…the survivors—what happened to them?"

Darden was feeling a perverse sense of loss, of fear. The Jedi proper hadn't done anything for her. Ever. But for them all to be gone, to be the only one…

"Many Jedi blamed the teachings of the Jedi Masters for Revan's fall," Kreia told her. "And the Civil War that followed. The Jedi Academy on Dantooine is nothing more than a crater that echoes with the ghosts of dead Jedi and the Jedi Temple on Coruscant is empty. The waters in the room of A Thousand Fountains have fallen still, in reverence to the fallen Jedi…and those now lost."

_Lost._ Darden seized the word like a lifeline. "If there are any Jedi at all left, these Sith will be after them, too, right?" she demanded. "We have to warn them."

Kreia shifted. "Perhaps, but they are Jedi no longer. If the Sith have not already slain them, then they will not help you, nor can you help them."

Darden thought back to the dozens of Sith storming the hangar, to the assassins that walked so that she could not sense them through the Force, could barely sense them at all. She remembered the broken man and his dead, gravelly voice. _I have come for the Jedi. _"Then how do we stop them?" she asked quietly.

Kreia was silent a moment. "That is not an easy question to answer," she said. "This threat is greater than you know and I do not believe it is a battle that can be fought."

Darden had been roughing it on the Rim for ten years. But she'd walked in silence, in safety. With the Exchange bounty on her head, and now these Sith that could sense her across the galaxy…she clenched her fists and decided right then that she would not be prey. "I don't fancy running all my life, Kreia," she said flatly. "I'm tired. Unless we stop the Sith, they're going to keep coming, aren't they?"

Atton shifted in his chair. He'd been following the conversation, and his face was set and angry. His blue eyes flickered in the dim light of the cockpit. "Look, enough with the 'we' already."

Kreia shot him a contemptuous glance from beneath her hood and looked back at Darden. "We cannot hope to triumph against them alone," she said. "To stop them, you will need weapons, allies, and," she paused significantly. Darden felt the air fill with tension. "And a teacher." Darden's stomach clenched. She got the sense that Kreia had been leading up to this moment since they had met. "In the end, I fear it may not be enough."

Darden looked hard at her. "What do you mean?" she pressed. "I need to know who these Sith are. How do they know about me? What are we dealing with here?"

Kreia did not reply directly. "You fought in the Mandalorian Wars, and it cost you everything. Are you willing to sacrifice as much again?"

Atton had been sitting quietly, his jaw tight, but at Kreia's words his gaze intensified again. He looked up at Darden. "What happened then?" he asked her. "Who were you?"

Darden's fists clenched again. She looked away from Kreia, away from Atton. "I fought, that's what happened. Everything that happened was my choice," she added to Kreia.

Kreia stepped forward. "You are not listening to me," she hissed. "This is not like any field of battle you have ever fought in. Think carefully on your choice. If you choose to fight again, if you choose war, it is a path few turn from once the first steps are taken. It carries with it a terrible price. And in the end, you may find you have nothing left to sacrifice."

Darden lifted her chin. "As far as I'm concerned, the Sith declared this war, not me. I'm not going to run for all eternity. I'm not going to let them just get on with whatever their game is. If I don't stop them, Kreia, I've lost already. I might as well just shoot myself in the head."

Kreia snorted. "Like so many Jedi, you hear, but do not listen," she spat. "You have much to learn." She clutched her arm, and swayed a little. Darden kept her mental wall rock solid and ignored Kreia's pain. She needed answers.

"The _Harbinger_ was going to Telos."

Kreia took a deep breath and inclined her head. "Yes. To aid in the recovery effort there. Many roads lead to Telos—including ours."

Atton spoke up again, then, gesturing towards the piloting computer. "Not like we have much of a choice, the Peragus astrogation charts being what they are. The navicomputer on this ship's voice-locked. I can't get in to pick another course even if I wanted to."

"It is where we must go," Kreia said, shooting Atton a nasty look. "And where the _Harbinger_ was bound before our unfortunate encounter on Peragus."

Darden drummed her fingers on her knee and regarded the old woman. "Encounter. You could call it that. You said you rescued me. How did you find me in the first place, Kreia?"

"You were difficult to find," Kreia said. "But coincidence was on our side. When I learned that you were on the vessel I knew the Sith would not be far behind. When we intercepted the Harbinger, it was crippled, drifting in space. It was a small matter to board the vessel and rescue you. Unknown to me, however, the Sith were already on board. Just as we made the jump to hyperspace, they fired upon us, nearly destroying the _Ebon Hawk_."

Darden considered this account, keeping her face as impassive as possible. She considered what she knew. She knew that the _Ebon Hawk_ had been attacked by a Sith war ship and had radioed for help. She knew Captain Reinald of the _Harbinger_ had at that point told his protocol droid, HK-50, to check on her, thus informing him of her presence on the ship. HK-50 had actually been an assassin droid in the employ of the Exchange, though, and had in fact been on the lookout for her -or any Jedi?—for several months. She imagined that he had adopted the post on the Republic ship to cover more ground and keep an ear out. Anyway, once he had heard about her, he had set about sabotaging the _Harbinger_ and lured her to the med bay and had her sedated. But not before the _Harbinger_ had been ordered by Admiral Onasi to aid the _Ebon Hawk_. They'd boarded the Sith vessel and recovered the Sith Lord as the systems started failing. At the same time, the Sith must have boarded them.

Darden had come across no record, on Peragus or on the _Harbinger, _that mentioned Kreia before the _Ebon Hawk_ had been fired on by the _Harbinger_, which must have been mostly rebooted by the Sith. She pressed her lips together. Kreia could have come in on the _Hawk, _but how had she known about Darden? How had she been in a position to rescue anyone if she'd been under attack by the Sith vessel? Who was the 'we' she referred to?

Darden rubbed her left hand. "I guess coincidence was on our side," she said in a low voice. "A long slew of them, though, don't you think?"

Kreia was very still. "True—but as one trained in the Force, you know that true coincidences are rare."

"I don't remember you rescuing me," Darden told her, hoping to draw her out.

"Whatever had occurred on board the Harbinger had rendered you unconscious. Though your thoughts were faint, I was still able to find you. Sealed in one of the cargo holds."

Darden nodded thoughtfully. That part of the story, at least, rang true. HK-50 had told her he'd sealed her in one of the cargo holds, and Kreia hadn't been there when he'd said so. She frowned. "Wait—if the Sith fired on the _Ebon Hawk_—the medical officer on Peragus had a log. She said you were dead when we landed. You yourself admitted you'd been badly hurt. Enough to have to go into a trance, I guess…how did we get to Peragus?"

Teethree rolled forward then, whistling.

"Be silent!" Kreia snapped. "We're having a conversation here."

Teethree kept beeping. Darden blinked. "He says he repaired the ship and got us to Peragus," she said. But where had Teethree come from? Had he just been on the _Hawk _the whole time?

Atton snorted. "Repaired the ship, my eye." He glared at the little astromech. "Next thing you know it's going to claim credit for saving our skins. If that little noisemaker says it repaired the ship, then it can prove it by doing it again." He stood up and waved a hand. "Go on, get!"

Teethree rolled up to Atton and tilted his head up. Lights blinked and gears whirred. He beeped something very rude. Darden choked back a laugh and covered her mouth with her hand. Atton's ears turned red. Darden blinked, and wondered for the second time if he was as ignorant of astromech as he thought. Teethree rolled away to start fixing the ship as per Atton's challenge.

Kreia shifted. "We have spoken long enough—and my wound pains me. If you have other questions, find me in the crew quarters. There we will speak more."

Atton sat back in the pilot's chair. "Hey, don't stop your long, boring rants on my account," he drawled. "I was just getting sleepy-eyed."

Kreia turned her back. "Also, in private, we will be mercifully free from the opinions of imbeciles and fools," she said, and stumbled away.

Darden leaned forward in her seat and propped her head up on her hands, thinking hard. She was in deep trouble, all right. And she wasn't in it alone. She hadn't been around other people for any length of time for years. A lot of things had changed today.

Atton interrupted her thoughts. "Look, uh, not that I care or anything, but you might want to go check on our passenger—especially with that hand of hers."

Darden looked over at him sharply. "_She_ didn't mention it. But you're right. You can handle things up here?"

"We're on autopilot until we hit Telos," Atton told her. "Until then, a droid could fly this thing. Besides, I think our passenger could use your help."

Darden raised an eyebrow at him. "Mine in particular? She seems pretty keen to save me, actually, and not to _need _anyone." But she felt Kreia hurting behind the wall she'd built in her head. It made her uncomfortable. It made her angry.

"I think she was barely keeping it together," Atton said quietly. "I'm surprised she's able to stand with all that pain rolling off her."

Darden sat back. Atton Rand had caught her off guard again. "You can sense it?"

Atton scoffed. "I'm not blind, Darden. If I were her, I'd be screaming like a stuck mynock." He looked sideways at her. "Well, I mean a very strong, manly mynock. I think she's just too proud to show any weakness, especially in front of you."

Darden tapped her fingers against the chair arm. "That's odd."

Atton raised an eyebrow. "Is it? In case you hadn't noticed, she won't say two words to me, but she'll talk your ear off any chance she gets. What you think matters to her. A lot. She wants you to respect her. Besides," he swept his hand out to indicate the emptiness of hyperspace. "We haven't got much to do until Telos."

"That's the truth," Darden said. She considered Atton. "All right. I'll go see if I can help her." She paused, though, then grabbed her pack from where it lay by the chair and dug through it. She pulled out some dried meat and a water skin. "Here," she said. "Got this in the dorms back at the facility. You should eat. And—back there in the asteroid field? That was really amazing flying. We would be dead without you."

She grabbed another water skin and a bag of fruit and left the cockpit for the crew quarters.

People. She'd have to get used to it, at least until they landed on Telos. Maybe longer. She rubbed her left hand. Atton would probably bail the minute they landed, but she had a feeling she wouldn't be so easily rid of Kreia. She didn't know but she'd rather have it the other way around.

She scowled. Atton Rand could be callous, and he could definitely be inappropriate. His staring made her uncomfortable, and he probably was a criminal, or had been. But he'd been scared half out of his mind back on Peragus, but had still managed to be an enormous help. He was a fantastic pilot, too. He'd be handy to have around if the Sith were going to chase her across the galaxy. Annoying, but handy. And the only reason she'd had to doubt his honesty since they'd met is she could never believe him when he said he didn't care what happened to her, or to Kreia.

Kreia—Darden didn't know about her. She had a tendency not to answer questions directly. Her story about Darden's 'rescue' had holes. Most obviously, why she'd been looking for Darden in the first place. Why she'd said the _Ebon Hawk_ had intercepted the _Harbinger _when all the records indicated the _Harbinger _had rescued the _Ebon Hawk_. Since meeting her, Darden had been able to feel the Force again. It was wonderful, but immediately afterwards she had felt like her hand had _melted _when Kreia had had hers cut off. Darden let the mental wall in the back of her mind come down a little, and her knees buckled as pain flooded over the link. She owed Kreia for that. But it made her squirm. What did the old lady want with her? Why had she done it?

She was exactly where she had told Darden she would be, sitting cross-legged on the starboard dormitory floor. She didn't rise when Darden entered. Darden sat instead.

"I brought you some food," she said.

Kreia didn't touch the fruit. "Have you come for more answers? There is little left to give."

The bite in her tone left little doubt as to what she referred to. Darden bit her tongue to hold her temper in. "I didn't ask you to fight the Sith Lord," she said, forcing a level tone. "Are you all right? Is there anything I can do?"

Kreia sighed, but she relaxed a little. "This wound is a physical thing, and will fade with time," she told Darden. "It was necessary…some things may only be learned from sacrifice."

Darden blinked. She had a feeling the old woman was not talking about what she, Kreia, had learned from the loss of her hand, somehow, and it made her uneasy. "Nevertheless," she hazarded. "I'm sorry you got hurt."

"Save your pity," Kreia snapped. "I am here to save you, not the other way around."

Darden took a deep breath. "Why don't we just help one another?"

"I do not need your condescension, nor your lectures," Kreia told her crisply. "If anyone needs training and guidance, it is you."

Darden lost her temper. "Then teach me to shut out your pain!" she retorted. "Ever since I met you, you've been in the back of my mind. I can feel you hurting, Kreia! For a moment there, back in the fuel line, I collapsed! If these Sith are after me—I can't be falling down when you get hurt!"

The pain ceased. Kreia had erected her own mental wall, one much stronger and steelier than Darden's. But right before she did, Darden felt the echo of something like satisfaction across it. "I do not know if it is possible," Kreia said. "And I fear that had the pain been more intense, the consequences would have been more extreme."

Darden went very still. "You mean I could have died," she said flatly.

"Possibly, yes, and I fear it works both ways. I would not wish to test it…nor should you."

Darden blinked. Kreia might be wrong. She might, Darden didn't know why, but she might be lying. But if she was right…She took a deep breath. "I see. Okay. So you'll come with me until we can figure out some way to fix this."

Kreia inclined her head. "When battle is upon us, I suspect our minds are prepared enough to shield each other from the pain. I think we shall not have a repeat incident of what happened at Peragus."

Darden thought about that. She rubbed her left hand, thinking. The pain she had felt in the fuel line when Kreia had lost her hand had been very real. She had no trouble imagining how it might have been worse if Kreia had died, how it might have been fatal. But for some reason she couldn't get Kreia's words out of her head. _Some things may only be learned from sacrifice. _Those words, and that split second of satisfaction that had bled over their link before Kreia had closed her mind. "I've never heard of a bond like this," she said. "Not in the holocrons. Not in the Jedi histories. Never."

Kreia didn't flinch. "I confess its nature eludes me as well. But the bond is strong and its roots run deep. It seems the Force flows easily between us—when one of us manipulates the Force to heal or strengthen ourselves, the other is aided as well. A powerful technique indeed—though, as we have noticed, it has its drawbacks."

Darden sniffed. She brought her hands together and looked over the tips of her fingers at Kreia. "So. What now?"

"I do not know," Kreia said. "The Sith struck more swiftly than I thought. And they will not stop until they have you in their grasp. If you fall all the galaxy will echo it."

"We can't run forever," Darden said. Never mind that she'd been doing just that for ten years. Now people—several people—were actually chasing her, it made a difference.

"It does not matter where we go," Kreia told her. "It is not the destination that matters, it is the journey. All paths will take us to the end, whatever it may be, and no matter how strongly we fight against it. For now, we are bound for Telos, and that is enough."

"Why Telos?" Darden asked her. "Why is Telos important?"

For once, Kreia answered directly, and not with a 'perhaps' or a 'possibly' or a comment that had no relation to the question Darden had asked whatsoever. "Before the war," she said, "Jedi who failed their training were sent to the fields of Telos to serve the galaxy, not as Jedi Knights, but as farmers and laborers. The destruction of Telos was complete. I doubt any Jedi remain. Yet there may be…echoes of their passing. We shall see."

"What if we don't find anything, though?"

"Then we are left with nothing more than what we had already—my faith in you, and your ability to meet what comes."

Darden pressed her lips together behind her hands and nodded slowly. Ah, yes, the teacher-speak again. Better address that, she thought. "When we were on Peragus, I felt the Force again for the first time in ten years," she told Kreia. Behind her words she added silently _right after I met you. Because you did something. What did you do, Kreia? _

Kreia registered no surprise. But the left corner of her thin, dry mouth turned up just slightly. "Indeed. And was it the same as before?"

Darden put her hands down on her thighs. "It hurts, Kreia. It never hurt before. But—it's a good pain. It was like someone tossed a sonic grenade at me all those years ago. Like for ten years I've been completely deaf, off balance, but now, my ears have just started ringing, because my hearing's coming back."

Kreia frowned at her concrete, violent comparison, but she only said, "If my suspicions are correct, perhaps the damage the Jedi Council did was not as permanent as they thought. It is not an easy thing, to cut one off from the Force."

Darden went very, very still. Suddenly, every detail in the room seemed crystal clear. She could see the dust motes in the light beam from the dormitory lamp. She could sense the draft from the hall. Each and every wrinkle on Kreia's face stood out, and the shadows cast by her hood seemed deeper. She heard the blood rushing in her ears; felt her heart beat hard against her ribs. She felt cold. "What?" she murmured. "The Jedi—is that what happened? They cut me off from the Force?"

Kreia actually laughed. It was an unpleasant sound. "What did you believe? That you suddenly lost your connection with the Force without reason?"

Darden's head started to throb. _But—I came back. I only ever did what I thought was right. I came back! I wanted to fix things, help rebuild what had been ruined, and they—_"But—how could they?" she stammered. "I don't believe it. To cut me off from the Force—it was sensory deprivation."

Kreia extended her hand and touched Darden's. Darden flinched away. "Indeed," the old woman said. "It must have been. It is much like losing one's ability to listen, or being put into a deep sleep, unable to awaken to the galaxy around you. Such a thing has been done before, when the Jedi have pronounced sentence on their own…and exiled them, as they did you."

"But—I can feel the Force again now," Darden protested. "Not like I did. But it's coming back. Can't we do anything, help reverse the process?" She let Kreia's hand rest on hers now.

"It is possible that such a thing may be undone," Kreia told her. "Still, even so, the chance of the Jedi undoing such a thing for a traitor is a slim thing at best, assuming they yet live."

"But it _is_ possible," Darden said. "How?"

Kreia patted Darden's hand and then drew back. "Our link may have had other consequences," she said. "Perhaps you can feel the Force again. Distantly, through me. If so, then there is hope. I may be able to teach you, train you to feel the Force again. And if you will not allow me to help you than other Jedi must train you…or undo the damage they have done."

Darden went cold again. She peered past the shadows of Kreia's hood, and saw her eyes for the first time. They were milky white, unseeing. Kreia was blind. But Darden knew she was looking at her through the Force. She shivered, realizing for the first time the position she was in.

She was feeling the Force again, through this bond with Kreia. If she didn't learn to control it, learn to use what remained of the Force in her again, it could kill her, could kill them both. If Kreia was right. If she was wrong, or lying…but could Darden take that chance? Either way, she couldn't let things be. Not now. She'd been insensate for ten years. She could feel life, and echoes of life, humming again, in the distance, maddeningly faint. But she couldn't block it out again. She wanted it. She did need—maybe not a teacher, but a helper, someone Force Sensitive, someone trained. And here Kreia was, so convenient, so accessible. And there might not be anyone else.

"You, Atton, the Sith, the Republic—they all think that I'm it," she said, very, very quietly.

"Then I am your only hope, as you are mine," Kreia said. "We are a sad pair, you and I, to defend the galaxy against such a thing. I offer to train you to become strong again, to know the ways of the Force, and to hear the Force sing within you as it once did."

Darden's entire body sang with tension. Now, at the very moment Kreia offered her the thing she wanted most in the universe, she didn't think she'd ever distrusted the old woman more. Because it was _too_ convenient, it was _too _easy. And why, why would Kreia want this? Why did Darden feel like this was the whole reason Kreia had tracked her down? It was crazy, it was insane to be so suspicious. The old woman had taken on a Sith Lord two hours ago and lost a hand in Darden's defense. Because of her, Darden could feel the Force for the first time in a decade. And yet!

"I—thank you," she said, her headache intensifying. "Anything you can do to help I would appreciate."

Kreia smiled. "Then our training shall begin. Whenever I travel with you, I shall impart what I can to you, through my words and presence."

Darden let out a breath, and immediately jumped on that promise. "Thank you. Right now I need your knowledge. I've been away from the Republic since the Mandalorian Wars. It seems I've missed a lot. If you could fill me in?"

Kreia nodded. "Much has happened in the galaxy in your absence," she agreed. "And since the defeat of the Mandalorians at Malachor V."

Darden swallowed. That was one thing she didn't need to hear about. Never needed to hear about again. She knew everything she would ever need to know about Malachor V, and she could remember it anytime she wanted to. All she had to do was close her eyes and she could see the flames, the ships breaking and burning, the bodies falling, the planet convulsing as she turned nature itself into a weapon…she swallowed again. "How did the Jedi Civil War start—where did Malak and Revan go wrong?"

"As Revan and Malak fought the Mandalorians in battle after battle they grew to despise weakness," Kreia told her, falling into a lecturing tone Darden had heard before. It was the one adopted by the Jedi historians, back at the Academy. In fact, it was the exact same tone, like—she listened more closely to Kreia. "Just as the Mandalorians did. In the end the Mandalorians had taught them through conflict. Shaped the Jedi. And turned them into a weapon against the Republic."

"It was weak, and so they turned?" Darden murmured.

Kreia inclined her head. "Revan and Malak and those that served them turned against the Republic and the Jedi Order," she continued. "Jedi fought Jedi. Revan was ambushed by the Jedi and captured. Malak continued to wage war in his Master's place, inflicting terrible wounds on the Republic. Wounds that bleed still."

"And what happened to him?"

"As all Sith do without a strong enemy, the Sith turned on each other. Revan escaped and returned to finish Malak. That was the end of the Jedi Civil War," Kreia finished.

Darden frowned. "But what did she do then? What happened to Revan?"

"No one knows," Kreia said. "Certainly not I. After defeating Malak, Revan left the Republic, and there are none who know where she has gone. It is said that the Sith remnants turned on themselves after Revan defeated Malak, reducing Korriban to ruin, as the Republic still bleeds and struggles for life. Where Revan wanders now, I do not know."

Darden tapped her fingers on her leg thoughtfully. "The Republic—I defied the Council because I thought it was worth saving. I came back for the same reason. Is there anything we can do to help it?"

But Kreia had had enough of answering questions directly. "A culture's teachings," she said, "And, most importantly, the nature of its people, achieve definition in conflict. They find themselves. Or find themselves lacking. Too long did the Republic remain unchallenged. It is a stagnant beast that labors for breath and has for centuries. The Jedi Order was the heart that sustained its sickness. Now the Jedi are lost, we shall see how long the Republic can survive."

Darden was a little angry. Kreia had a point, she could see that. Her words now sounded like the echo of something Darden had heard Revan say, once, long ago. Darden had never agreed with her there. She'd always thought that there was something to be said for law, for structure. Sure, the Republic needed to reform here and there. But it provided justice and representation and stability for billions across the galaxy. It was a good thing. How could Kreia view its struggle to survive with such impassivity? "There has to be something we can do."

Kreia shrugged. "We shall see," she said in tones of supreme unconcern. "The Jedi Civil War cost the Republic much. The resources of the Sith seemed limitless. The Republic's were not. Fleets of war ships, soldiers, and people were lost. Entire planets were decimated—their inhabitants dead—or refugees. It is a great burden for any civilization to bear."

She paused. "This new threat, though. It is a quiet thing, unlike the Jedi Civil War. It drives at something deeper than the strength of the Republic. It is aimed at you."

The Sith. Darden realized Kreia was talking about a fundamental shift in the aims of these new Sith. She'd referenced it before. These new Sith that had attacked her on Peragus weren't concerned with taking over the galaxy. They just wanted to take her out. An entire people, an entire organization, focused solely on her elimination or conversion. She suddenly felt very, very small. And very afraid. "How do you mean?" she asked, hoping she was wrong.

"The Republic was never what was important," Kreia said, very quietly. "Ever. It was but a shell that surrounds the Jedi—just as the teachings of the Jedi are but a shell surrounding the heart of man. You see the war, the true war, has never been one waged by droids, or war ships, or soldiers. They are but crude matter, obstacles against which we test ourselves. The true war is waged in the hearts of all living things, against our own natures, light or dark. That is what shapes and binds the galaxy, not these creations of man." She paused, then continued.

"You are the battleground, Darden Leona. And if you fall, the death of the Republic will be such a quiet thing, a whisper that heralds the darkness to come."

Darden's head throbbed again. She held it in both her hands. "This is—wow. I need some time to think. Or sleep. Or—something." She laughed. Then laughed again, somewhat hysterically. "This day, I'm telling you!"

Kreia regarded her impassively. "See to that fool in the cockpit," she said after a moment. "Remind him of our destination. I would not want him attempting to veer from Telos."

Darden frowned and stopped laughing. "Look, his name is Atton. And, sure, he's a little-" She didn't know exactly what Atton was, though. She stopped, and tried again. "Whatever else he is, he's an incredible pilot. And he's been a huge help so far. Just—play nice, okay?"

Kreia scowled. "He is a fool and an imbecile, and his potential lies downward, not up," she snapped. "Watch that one. His thoughts are slippery. I do not trust him, and nor should you. Such a man serves himself first, and his 'allies' next."

Darden looked hard at her, and stood. "Yeah. Maybe. He'll probably leave after we land, anyway. I just don't want the trip to be more uncomfortable than it's going to be with the supplies we've got anyway. Got it?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She stalked out, annoyed for some reason. It wasn't that she trusted Atton Rand. Or even liked him. But he _had_ been a help, and so far, he'd shown more propensity to answer direct questions than Kreia had. And he didn't _want_ to be involved in this mess, whatever it was. Darden kicked a wall, irritably, and cradled her head. She needed some time to think, before she went to see Atton again. People. She'd have to deal with them for the next couple days at least. She'd have to deal with Kreia a lot longer than that.

* * *

IN THE WOMEN'S DORMITORY, _EBON HAWK_

The old woman let the walls guarding her mind relax. The Exile was too weak to probe her mind, yet, too courteous to try. The old woman let the Force wash over the stump where her hand had been, bathing it in comfort, diverting the nerve endings to new paths where they could no longer mourn their loss. At the same time she relished the comfort, she despised it, and wished she had the strength to cast her crutch aside. One day. One day.

The Exile did not trust her. She was suspicious, fearful. Grateful as well, but confused and angry about the debt she felt she owed. She felt she had been hunted down, manipulated into a corner. The old woman smiled to herself. Years of independence, of total self-reliance had strengthened the Exile, sharpened her mind. She would be a worthy pupil, and a worthier opponent.

The old woman could not but admire the Exile's strength, her caution, her righteous anger, and the guilt she wore like a cloak. The Exile would be a tool in her hands, but she was a beautiful one, a precious one.

The old woman could deal with the Exile's suspicion, her confusion, and her pain. The Exile's ability to attach, her need to attach would aid her. She was a chasm that had been starved for contact, for meaning for years. She would let the old woman stay, and she would learn the way the old woman wanted her to. But the penchant to attach could also be problematic. The old woman saw and knew that it would not end with her.

It had already begun with that fool, that criminal. He did not understand, not in the least, what the Exile was, what was happening. Or perhaps he did. The old woman opened her mind, but still she could not get a read on his thoughts. The rage he was projecting like a wall put her off balance, and beneath that—pazaak cards. Just pazaak cards. Yet he was not playing pazaak. The trouble was the fool could be anyone, and he could hurt her, or warp the plans the old woman was weaving. Already she felt a bond with him, the Exile. He made her uneasy, confused her. But she defended him and the old woman could feel her disquiet when she admitted that he felt no loyalty to them.

There would be others, other attachments, distractions. The old woman would meet them when they came. For now, she let her mind drift on the currents of her great Enemy, analyzing it, feeling its motion, and dreamed of the day she would force it to release her. To release everyone.

* * *

IN THE COCKPIT, _EBON HAWK_

The man in the cockpit of the _Ebon Hawk_ yawned. He judged it'd probably been ten, twelve hours since the energy cell on Peragus. They'd dock at Citadel Station sometime the day after tomorrow. He didn't know why he was still sitting here, really. He'd probably head to the portside dorm soon to get some rest.

He fiddled with the controls. Nice little freighter, the _Ebon Hawk_. Light. Fast. Probably had been a smuggler, at some point. He'd have to check the cargo hold for secret panels later. Not that he was going to stay on the ship. Just, last owner might've left something. You never knew. He could've definitely drawn worse escape ships, that was for sure.

Or escape partners, really. Well, the hag was annoying as hell, but Darden wasn't bad, for a Jedi. Crazy, of course. But not bad. He guessed she'd seen how phony it all was, how despicable, and that's why she'd left. Though—he guessed she'd been through some rough stuff, too. She said she hadn't felt the Force in years. What was that about?

Speaking of Darden. He heard her footsteps and turned to look. There she was, not much bigger than a kid in that oversized miner's outfit. He thought how she'd looked without it. She definitely _wasn't _a kid.

"How's our passenger? Still aging?"

She sat in the co-pilot's chair again and tucked her feet up under her. "She seems to have some sort of aversion to answering a question directly," she told him. "Look up 'cryptic' in the Galactic Basic dictionary—she probably originated the term."

Atton rolled his eyes. Typical. "What a surprise. Just so you Jedi know, the whole 'cryptic' routine isn't mysterious, it's just irritating. If you really can see the future, you should be at the pazaak table."

Darden sat back in her chair and looked at the ceiling. "But to know the future one must know one's self," she said quietly, straight-faced.

Atton looked at her. She didn't look back. "What, was that some kind of joke? That's what I'm talking about. 'Jedi Talk'." He scoffed. "You two should start your own little Jedi Academy."

Darden reached down and picked up her blaster pistol, twirling it, throwing and catching it in an expert, absentminded manner. "But to teach, one must be willing to learn," she said.

"All right, cut it out!" Atton said, annoyed. She caught the blaster again. It hit her left hand with a soft smack, and she looked at him finally from under her bangs.

"Yeah," she said. "It annoys me, too." Her nose wrinkled, just a little, and the corner of her mouth turned up. Atton was momentarily diverted from his annoyance by the curve of her lips.

"The last Jedi in the galaxy," he muttered, "I get the comedian who runs around in her underwear. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I mean, compared to the Jedi Queen of the Galaxy back there, I'd rather be stuck in an escape pod for a year with you than with her."

Darden frowned and looked away again. Her hand went to her head and she massaged it, like she had a headache. "I'm not quite sure she's Jedi," she told him. "I'm not sure _what_ she is."

"Then she must be royalty, because she's got to be Queen of the Galaxy to bark out orders like that. Or maybe she's senile. I mean, how old do you think she is? She may have been good looking once, but it takes some hard living to make creases like that." Insulting the hag lifted some of his anger and frustration. Not a lot. But some.

Darden didn't play, though. "I think it does," she said seriously. "She seems like she's seen a lot."

"Yeah," Atton said with relish. "Her face looks like it was plowed by crazed Ord Mantell farmers. Don't tell me you were too distracted by her personality to notice."

But he'd gone too far again. Darden looked at him in distaste and disapproval and Atton felt childish and clumsy. "Look—ease off the insults, will you?" she said. "She was wounded helping us to escape, remember?"

"Whoa, all right, all right. Don't get mad at me. Hey, I didn't ask her to stay behind and get her hand cut off, okay?" He was damned certain she hadn't done what she did for _him_, anyway. But Darden was still looking at him with those eyes that judged and evaluated. He shifted and looked away. "I mean—I appreciate what she did and all, but she could stand to lay off the insults herself, you know."

"I do know," Darden said. Atton looked at her with surprise. "I told her as much. She didn't take it well. She doesn't trust you."

Atton shifted again, hesitated, but he couldn't help it. "Do you?"

Darden paused, actually thinking about her answer. "I don't know," she said finally. "I did find you in a holding cell for some security violation you never fully explained."

He opened his mouth to argue, but Darden held up a hand. "I don't know if I trust her either, though," she told him.

Atton stopped. "Why not?"

Darden shrugged. She looked a bit guilty. "Her story doesn't add up completely, is all. It seems to me that it was just a little too convenient that she found me when she did, that everything's been happening the way it has—never mind."

She fiddled with the casing on the blaster, opening it to reveal the wiring and modifications inside. She dug around in her pack, not looking at him, and came out with some parts. Atton didn't know Darden Leona too well, but he recognized a nervous habit when he saw one. And eventually, she continued. "Just—everyone's after me, right? What if she's one of them? Though, she hasn't tried to kill me yet, which makes her automatically better than HK-50 or the Sith…It's crazy." She was talking more to herself now, and Atton just listened. "She took on a Sith Lord for us, she's giving up hands and bending over backwards to help me, but—something's weird, okay?" She shoved the blaster and the parts off her lap.

Atton reached out and caught them. "Careful, Leona!"

She rolled her eyes. "I took the power pack out." She held it up, showing him. Then she bit her lip. "I've been on my own a long time," she said. "I shouldn't be telling you this."

Atton handed her back her blaster, feeling oddly out of his depth. She was fragile, for a Jedi. For someone that'd been living on the Rim for a decade. "No, it's okay," he said. "Don't stop your long, boring rants on my account."

But he said it very differently than he had said it to Kreia, and Darden caught the difference. She nodded, reassured, and looked away. "She's my teacher now, apparently. What do I want a teacher for? What did I want any of this for?"

Atton shifted uncomfortably. All this talking about real stuff, it wasn't his forte. And what was she asking him for? She'd already said she wasn't sure if she trusted him. At the same time, he felt a strange sense of victory that she was talking about this with him, and not the old witch. "I guess you become a Jedi, you deal with the mess, don't you?" he said lamely.

Darden looked up at him again. She wrapped her arms around her knees then, and looked at him straight on. "I'm really not a Jedi anymore, Atton. I'm really not. But it's not your problem and it's not your fault. You just got sucked in by accident." She nodded. Swallowed. "I'm glad you were there, and I'm grateful for the help you were back on Peragus. I guess we'll go our separate ways on Telos."

Atton looked away. "I guess so."

"When will we get there?"

"The day after tomorrow," he said. "It's the only place Peragus had logged in their astrogation charts. If you thought Peragus was dead, then Telos is a dying world they're trying to bring back to life. You can check our course on the galaxy map if you want—it's on the wall behind you."

Darden nodded. "I'll do that. You—you should get some rest. While you can."

She stood up and patted him awkwardly on the shoulder again. Atton kept his eyes ahead. Darden said she wasn't a Jedi, but she sure acted like one. Acting like he was going to bite her, or something._ Not_ that he wouldn't like to. He imagined how it might play out, briefly, but then let the images go. He'd be gone day after tomorrow, and there wouldn't be time to work her around before then. Get past that Jedi propriety Darden still kept up, even as an exile.

What was up with that, anyway? "What happened?" he asked. He could feel she was still there, looking at the map.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't give me that," Atton snorted. "All this 'I'm not a Jedi' stuff, the hag saying you are. There were plenty of times back on Peragus where a lightsaber would have been helpful. So—where's yours?"

Atton didn't know if it was him, but the temperature seemed to drop about twenty degrees. "I'm not a Jedi. Funnily enough, the Jedi Council—back when there was one—they didn't generally let exiles keep their lightsabers."

She spoke with a mixture of annoyance, old anger, hurt, and, oddly enough, loss. Atton turned to face her in his chair. Was she actually upset the Council was gone?

"I thought a Jedi was supposed to be married to their lightsaber," he said. He could recall enough times—but that was then. "Guess I heard wrong. Were you a single hilt or one of those double-bladed Jedi?"

Darden smiled mirthlessly and gestured at herself. "Look at me, Atton. I need all the range in a weapon I can get. Mine had a double-blade."

Atton raised an eyebrow at her, reevaluating. She was certainly crazy enough. Fast. Agile. He wondered how he'd take her down in a fight. If he could corner her, without the Force, he could probably—"I hear the twin blades are harder to master," he mused, "But they can make enemies stampede over each other running for cover. Lot of Jedi in the Mandalorian Wars used double-bladed sabers. A more aggressive blade, gives you more slaughter per swing. Hey, you didn't go red, did you?"

Darden Leona's face had been growing harder and harder through his little speech. Now she stepped up to his chair. She poked him in the chest. "I never fell, Atton Rand," she said, very quietly. "I don't care _what_ you've heard, _what_ they say. I _never_ did. I did what I did because I thought it was right, and I've gone through _hell _because of it. Got it?"

She stood there, glaring at him, and Atton was at once very curious, and very, very turned on. His gaze fell to her lips, and lower. She stumbled back. "And _stop_ that," she told him.

Atton shrugged. "All right. Forget I said anything. Are we on course? You can tell dear Kreia that the fool hasn't tried to fly you off into Unknown Space just yet." He turned his chair away.

"Good night," Darden said, her voice was cold.

"'Night, sweetheart," he said drily. He was already reimagining that moment where she had been practically leaning over his lap, glaring at him, how close she'd been, how those enormous green eyes had glowed. Images of how she'd looked in her underwear earlier today intruded. He didn't block them. He held onto them, focused on them, thought how she might look in underwear that wasn't Republic military-issue, or not even that.

He focused on those images, but behind them, Atton Rand wondered what hell Darden Leona had gone through and why the wounds from the Mandalorian Wars still seemed so raw. Who had she been and what had she done?

Behind the lust he maintained as a wall, Atton Rand wondered those things, and he tried very hard to ignore other things he'd felt and wondered during their brief interview. Like how Darden had told him what was in her head, and hadn't lied, and why she'd done that. Like how she hadn't seemed too happy he'd be going, and, though he damn sure didn't want to get involved in an intergalactic Sith chase, he wasn't too happy about leaving _her_ to it, either. Like how she'd fiddled with that blaster and mocked Jedi Talk. Lust was safe. Fear was safe. Curiosity about Darden's past was safe. But those other things—they weren't safe at all.

* * *

MED BAY, _EBON HAWK_

Darden Leona curled up on the bunk in the med bay and drank some water, massaging her head and trying not to cry with exhaustion or anger or confusion. She couldn't go back to the starboard dormitory with Kreia. Not yet. She definitely couldn't go to the portside dorm, where Atton'd be sleeping tonight.

She didn't trust them, either of them. Kreia's words were cryptic, her motivations completely unreadable. Atton, he'd looked at her back there like she was a piece of meat, or like he was thinking about how to take her down in a fight. For sure he hated Jedi; though she wasn't sure he hated her. He wanted her trust, wanted her conversation too badly. But that just made things more complicated, more uncomfortable. Darden didn't know where to go. She didn't know what to do. She needed a _goal_, needed something to work towards, not this…_mess_.

She took a deep breath, wiped her eyes. Teethree rolled into the med bay and beeped inquisitively at her. She smiled. Droids made so much more sense than people. Especially the ones that weren't trying to kill her. "And where'd you come from, then, Teethree?"

He beeped at her, whistled. He wasn't telling. Darden frowned.

"You've seen a lot. The carbon scoring on you, the scratches—that didn't all happen on Peragus. Could I—would you mind if I do some maintenance on you?"

Teethree whirred and rolled forward. He said he had lost some functionality due to battle, and to an excess of programs in his behavior core. If she wanted to help, he'd be grateful. It was his job to fix things, he said, and he was afraid he wasn't operating at peak functionality. She was much nicer than the pilot—like his old master, and the other ones.

Darden blinked. "How long ago was this? What are you talking about?"

Teethree's head swiveled from side to side, and Darden heard one of his gears catch. "No—don't worry about it, okay," she said quickly. "It's fine. Force—how long have you been without a memory wipe?"

She opened his casing and fiddled with his wires and programming, biting her tongue and concentrating hard. She streamlined his functioning but diversified his abilities, added a few extra degrees of mobility to the wheel motors and tried to open his memory up to speed logical processing and memory access. He beeped at her encouragingly, and lights flickered. Finally, when Darden's head was full of electrical impulses and mathematical equations for computer programming instead of the complexities of human relationships, misplaced grief for the Jedi, and apprehension about the galactic battle apparently taking place in her heart, she shut Teethree's casing. "There you are. Hope that helps."

Teethree ran into her gently, trilled happily and rolled away to talk to the hyperdrive. And Darden Leona lay back down on the bunk in the med bay and reached out with the Force. She felt the hum of the _Ebon Hawk, _faintly, the stars burning their song as they flew by outside of hyperspace. She could hear Teethree whirring a few yards away, and just barely, she could hear the beating of Atton and Kreia's hearts. She drew back then, and closed her eyes. She hoped she wouldn't have nightmares.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, the more I write of this, the more I'm liking my Exile. It's weird, because I think I like her more than I liked Aithne, though, as per the RPG MO, and considering that I played KotOR first, I put a lot more of myself into Aithne, though she's much too brave and witty and caring to be as self-insert-y as a lot of Revans are. **

**I didn't anticipate Darden turning out this way, though. I thought she'd be a much calmer, more peaceful character than she's turning out to be. She's coming out terse, angry, suspicious. And really, really anti-social, though that's more a byproduct of ten years alone than a real facet of her personality. She hates herself and what she's done but can't regret it, either. And she has a very entertaining habit of focusing on small, mechanical tasks, or the current short-termed goal to keep her sane. It means she sometimes ignores really important things, and sometimes clues other people in to exactly how messed up she is. That was a total surprise, but I'm LOVING it. Darden Leona is developing altogether into her own character, and considering how she's going, I can't WAIT until she meets up with Bao-Dur. **

**I'll keep writing. I'm invested in this project. But reviews are always nice, you know? If you're enjoying my work, or if you have any suggestions, just take thirty seconds to leave a comment in the box down there, hey? **

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp**


	7. Complications

**Disclaimer: Yes, well. It's not mine. Obviously. **

VI.

Complications

Two days after the destruction of Peragus, Atton flew the _Ebon Hawk _into the Telosian Citadel Station. Darden Leona stood at the head of the boarding ramp with Teethree, Kreia and Atton. She squared her shoulders.

"Well. Here we are, Kreia. Immediate objectives are to resupply and find us another pilot, huh? We'll look around, too, and see if we can't find any trace of the Jedi."

She hit the button and lowered the ramp. Then she turned to Atton. "Hey. It's been fun. Thanks for your—"

A voice sounded over the comm. "Attention: This is Citadel Station Bay Control—Dock Module 126. Please remain where you are. Lieutenant Dol Grenn will arrive shortly to meet with you. That is all."

Atton withdrew the hand he'd been holding out to shake Darden's. "I don't like the sound of that," he muttered, looking up at the window upstairs. "If they think we caused that explosion on Peragus…"

He trailed off as they all sighted three armed and uniformed men walking towards them.

"Uh oh," Atton said in a low voice. "Here comes the welcoming party. They may not know what happened, so don't blow it."

"We have nothing to hide," Darden said. "We didn't do anything wrong."

She strode forward, head held high, to meet the leader, a short, sharp-faced man in his mid-fifties. "I'm Lieutenant Grenn," he said. "Telos Security Force. I'm under orders to take you into custody in regards to the destruction of the Peragus Mining Facility."

"I'm Darden Leona," said the same. "These are my companions, Atton Rand and Kreia. Are we under arrest?"

Lieutenant Grenn hesitated. "You haven't been formally charged," he admitted, "But you will be placed under house arrest pending the results of our investigation. Due to the nature of the investigation I have no specific timetable to offer you. In the meantime your ship and any droids will have to be given over for safekeeping."

Teethree rolled forward, beeping inquisitively. Lieutenant Grenn nodded sternly. "Yes, that includes you," he replied. "You are a droid, so you will have to be detained. In addition," he said to Darden, "We will have to take your arms and armor until the completion of our inquiry."

Darden inclined her head graciously. Over the years she had found that it was better to cooperate with these official type people. It made them feel bad for arresting you, made the consequences lighter if they decided you were guilty, and made negotiating for favors easier. In addition, if the TSF decided that they were guilty, if she had cooperated with them through the investigation, they would be off-guard when she made her escape attempt. "Naturally. Will we be able to get our things back?"

Predictably, Lieutenant Dol Grenn had already dropped his blaster rifle a few degrees. He nodded. "If you are cleared of any involvement, your personal effects will be returned to you. You will be held briefly in the TSF station until living quarters can be arranged, at which point you will be placed under house arrest. Do you understand?

"Perfectly, Lieutenant," Darden said smoothly. "We'll cooperate, and if we can be of any service in the investigation we'd be more than delighted to do so."

"Good. My men will relieve you of any arms and armor. Please follow me."

Atton groaned. "Tell me I'm not going to jail again," he muttered to Darden.

"It was always a possibility," Darden murmured back. "Just hand over the pack and follow the guy for now. Sorry about this."

"It's not your fault," Atton replied. He tossed his bag to one of Grenn's men. Darden did the same with her pack.

Kreia had no arms and armor to hand over, so she merely passed between the two men, her head held majestically, not looking to either side. The three of them followed Lieutenant Grenn through Citadel Station. Teethree beeped sadly behind them.

Darden felt badly to leave him, and she wasn't too happy to be going to jail. But supplies and credits were both low. She figured under arrest she and Kreia—and Atton—would at least be assured of three meals a day and the best information about what was going on here at Citadel Station. She looked from side to side.

The last time she had been in this part of the galaxy, the station hadn't existed. Millions of people had lived on Telos' surface, which was years away from being destroyed by the Sith. Faintly, she could feel the pain of the planet far below, echoes of bombardment and dying men, women, and children. But she could also feel the life around her. Citadel Station was an amazing place, full of hope for the future, refugees, new beginnings.

Lieutenant Grenn led them through the Station to a TSF office and back to the detainment area. Darden stepped into an empty force cage without complaint or prompting. Kreia did the same into the next one over. Atton sighed.

"I know I'm going to regret this." But he stepped in, too, holding his hands up helplessly.

An officer pressed a lever by the door, and the force cages hummed to life around Darden and her companions. "You will be held here briefly," Lieutenant Grenn explained, looking, however, a little chagrined. "Living quarters are being arranged for you and your companions as we speak. Someone will return shortly to escort you to an apartment in Residential Module 082."

"That's very generous of you," Darden said simply. Grenn turned on his heel then, and, followed by his two officers, left the detainee room and closed the door.

Atton gave a huge, fake yawn and stretched. "Well, we might be here for a while. Might as well get comfortable."

"We will not be here for long," Kreia said.

"At least they'll feed us," Darden said, shrugging. "We were about out of water on the _Hawk_, and if I'd had to eat one more piece of that jerky I swear my tongue would have resembled nothing so much as a prune."

With that she sat down on the floor of her force cage and drew her knees up to her stomach. Kreia sat down, too, crisscross, and with her hands upon her knees, seemed to start meditating.

Atton sat down last. "Looks like we're stuck together a little while longer, huh?" he said quietly, trying not to disturb Kreia.

"Seems so. I am sorry about that. I hoped they'd leave us alone. You didn't ask for this."

"Nah, it's not so bad," Atton said, shrugging. "Prison on Peragus, prison on Telos, it's all the same to me. At least the company's better here."

Darden looked down at her hands. Suddenly, Kreia stood. "Someone is coming," she hissed.

Her tone sent adrenaline spiking through Darden. She climbed to her feet just as the door opened and a man in uniform entered, alone. He closed the door behind him.

"So," he said in a soft, taunting voice, looking straight at Darden. "This is the last of the Jedi. I must admit, I'm a little disappointed."

"What's going on? Who are you?" Darden demanded, loudly, hoping to be heard beyond the door.

"The Exchange has a bounty on Jedi, you know," the man said. "You're worth quite a bit of money."

From the force cage across from her Atton looked the man up and down. "The Exchange, huh? I'm pretty sure some two-bit pistol jockey like yourself isn't one of them," he said contemptuously.

The man rounded on Atton, sneering. "I'm more than skilled enough to work for the Exchange," he snapped.

Atton snorted. "You bounty hunters couldn't even win a fair fight. You're the cheapest, most worthless mercenary scum in the galaxy. I'd hire a Mandalorian over your filth in a second."

Darden wondered what Atton was playing at. The man had a gun, and they were still in force cages. She opened her mouth to object, but Atton shot her a sharp glance. She shut up.

"No Mandalorian could match my skills!" the man declared. "No Mandalorian could have been clever enough to infiltrate this station, taken the identity of one of the guards, then…"

"Then what?" Atton interrupted. "Overloaded our force cages and then made it look like an accident? You probably don't even have the guts to fight me. Heh. Pathetic."

Darden stared, realizing what he was doing. Atton was intentionally infuriating the bounty hunter, shifting his attention, and his anger, towards Atton and away from Darden in an attempt to goad the man into a one-on-one fight.

It almost worked, too. The man took a step towards Atton, his face suffused with rage. "Don't think overloading your cages had not occurred to me…" Then he hesitated, and looked back towards Darden. "You're wanted alive, but I doubt anyone will care so long as I bring them your corpse."

Darden crossed her arms. "We're in the middle of the TSF station. How do you think you are possibly going to get away with killing me here?"

The man gave a little smile. "The security cameras have mysteriously shorted out. There will be no witnesses to your escape attempt, during which time I'll have been forced to kill you. By the time the TSF realize I'm not one of them, I will be far from this place."

Darden went very still. The bounty hunter's—though 'assassin' might be a better word, now she thought of it, since he didn't want to bring them in to the Exchange—his plan might have been a good one. It covered his butt, certainly. If it weren't contingent upon him being able to kill her when he let her out of her force cage—kill her before she took him down or made enough noise that someone came running. Overloading the cages would've been a better idea. But she wasn't going to tell him that. "You want to do this?" she said, very quietly. "Fine. Let's do this."

The man walked over to the force cage release panel. "Come, Jedi, it is time to die."

Atton banged on his force cage and winced as it shocked him. "Hey, leave her alone—you want a fight? Then try me, if you've got the guts."

The man gave Atton a disdainful glance. "You have goaded me once, and you shall not do so twice. But I shall dispose of all of you eventually. And an old woman, a fool, and a broken Jedi are no match for my skills."

He pressed the button. Darden opened her mouth and screamed, "Help! Murder!" Then she ran, dropped, and rolled.

Darden Leona had not been a Jedi for ten years. She was unarmed, nearly half a meter shorter and several kilograms lighter than their assailant. But she hadn't neglected her physical conditioning those ten years out on the Rim on her own. She ducked under the assassin's gun and came in under his guard. She elbowed him, swift and hard, in the stomach, then brought her hand down on his forearm, hard. She seized his gun from the fingers that had gone limp, and tore out the power pack.

She brought the gun up to brain him with, but he had already flown back several feet into a wall. Darden whirled to see Kreia with her hand extended, her lips tight with concentration. The assassin leapt up almost immediately, clutching his arm, but Atton was there. He stomped hard on the man's instep, and then brought his hand around straight into the assassin's throat. Darden heard the man's windpipe crunch. He slumped to the floor.

The door behind them opened. Lieutenant Grenn ran in. "There was a commotion in here. The security cameras ha—what? What's going on here?"

Another two TSF officers ran in. "Man down!" he cried, sighting the uniformed man on the ground. He ran to the assassin's side. "Quick, call a medic!"

Lieutenant Grenn whipped out his blaster and trained it on Darden. "All right, Jedi—I want you to back up slowly, hands in front of you, into the force cage." The other officer trained his blaster on Atton. "Cooperate, and we won't have to gun you down."

"C'mon, Lieutenant," said the man beside the assassin. "They've already killed—who is this? Is this Batu Rem?"

Darden was angry. "If Batu Rem is supposed to be a guard, that's not him. He said he was from the Exchange, and posing as a guard. He tried to assassinate me. It was a good thing we didn't have to rely on you for protection."

"Rem's no assassin," said the woman beside Grenn.

"Batu Rem is on leave," Grenn said, lowering his blaster. He walked over to the dead man. "He shouldn't even be on this station." He turned over the corpse. "This man isn't him."

Darden folded her arms and glared. "How did he get in here?" she demanded.

Lieutenant Grenn stood up and holstered his blaster. His officer followed suit. Lieutenant Grenn looked angry, too, now. "That's something we're going to have to look into," he said grimly. "I can tell you that it can't have been easy."

"Do look into it," Darden said shortly. "Do I still have to go back into the force cage?"

Lieutenant Grenn shook his head. "We've arranged for an apartment in Residential Module 082. You'll stay there under house arrest until our investigation into the Peragus matter is complete. I'll personally clear any visitors to your quarters, and we'll investigate this incident to the best of our ability."

"Yeah. You better. Let's just go."

"Officer, get Lieutenant Yima a report of this incident," Grenn dictated to the woman. "She'll look into this. The rest of you, come with me. We'll escort you to that apartment in 082 immediately."

Darden nodded and fell into line behind Grenn again. Atton and Kreia came up beside her. Darden looked at them both. "Thanks for that, back there."

"It is what I am here for, to teach, and to protect," Kreia said.

"You weren't bad yourself," Atton told Darden.

Darden regarded him, trying to make sense of his actions. They didn't add up. Atton didn't want to be involved, wanted to get out of her business and away from the people chasing her, didn't he? Yet the first bounty hunter they'd met here on Telos, and he'd practically thrown himself in the guy's line of fire. He looked away, and Darden felt uncomfortable.

Residential Module 082 was a well-organized, clean block of apartments and businesses. People quietly went about their business in the corridors, and plants and fountains helped take the harshness away from the artificial environment. Lieutenant Grenn led them to a spacious four-person apartment-though it was one-room—on the extreme east end of the module. Darden looked about at the made-up military regulation bunks, the little kitchenette and the door that led off to the fresher.

"Well," she muttered to Kreia, "Whatever you can say for the Telosian Security Force's actual security, they treat their prisoners well."

"These will serve as your quarters for the duration of your house arrest," Lieutenant Grenn told them. "Two officers will be stationed outside at all times. Again, I'll clear any visitors. There won't be another incident."

"But just to be on the safe side, why don't you leave us a blaster or two?" Atton asked casually.

Darden looked at him. "Atton."

He shrugged. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

Darden turned to address the Lieutenant. "The quarters are lovely, Lieutenant. How long will we be here?"

Grenn shook his head. "I can't say. We have a ship examining what's left of the Peragus facility now, so your stay might be brief. We'll keep you informed."

"Well, this is a step up from a force cage, at least," Atton conceded.

"If there are any problems, we'll use the wall terminal to contact you," Grenn said, pointing towards a communications console on the wall.

Darden stepped forward. "Lieutenant. Before you go. You ought to know—with our gear there are four holo-logs. One belonged to the dock officer on Peragus, one to the administration officer, one to the foreman, and one to a miner named Coorta. The last has been augmented with a log I found on a terminal on the Peragus dormitory level. Your investigation might find the logs informative."

"Thank you for your cooperation—er—"

"Darden Leona."

"Yes. We'll look into it." He turned to his officers. "Let's go."

Lieutenant Grenn and his escort departed from the apartment. The door closed behind them, and Darden heard the click as it locked.

Atton started pacing. "This isn't good. We've got to get off this station."

Darden blinked, unnerved by Atton's usage of the plural. "Why?"

"What do you think the TSF is going to find at Peragus?" Atton demanded. "They could bring the Si—you know what, forget it. As long as we're trapped here, it doesn't matter."

Darden focused on Atton Rand. She remembered back on Peragus that Atton had been particularly frightened by the Sith. She had thought at the time that everything was perfectly normal. Anyone not Sith with sense was frightened by the Sith. But maybe…she turned away. "What do you think, Kreia?" she asked the old woman, who had heretofore been unaccustomedly silent.

"We cannot stay in any place too long," Kreia conceded. "But our path has brought us here for a reason. I must meditate on this. In the meantime, we should rest."

Atton waved her away. "Yeah, you go ahead and meditate. As for me, I could use some sleep."

The words 'house arrest' have a glamor about them, an exclusivity, a specificity. To be under house arrest is to have caused trouble enough to be confined, but not to be quite bad enough for prison. Darden tried to think on this to comfort herself. She tried to think how much nicer their spacious quarters in Residential Module 082 were than a force cage in the TSF base where assassins infiltrated. But after she had counted the ceiling tiles thirteen times (there were 96 of them), played solitary pazaak and lost seven times in a row, recited all the poems she knew in her head and watched Kreia meditating for an hour and a half, Darden was forced to acknowledge that despite the glamor, exclusivity, and specificity of house arrest, it was in fact very, very boring and awkward to be locked in a windowless room with two near strangers and forbidden to leave. Especially when her two companions hated one another so much.

She gave a sigh. And just then the communications console rang. Darden and Atton leapt up at the same time, but Darden beat him to it. She made a face at him. It was childish, but she was very bored. She accepted the call.

It was one of the TSF officers outside her room. "Excuse me—" she said, politely and diffidently. "You have a caller, Moza, representing the Ithorian planet restoration efforts on Telos. Lieutenant Grenn's cleared him, if you'd like to speak with him."

Darden wondered how this Moza had known to call. "What does he want?" she asked.

"He says he wishes to speak with you on behalf of Chodo Habat," said the woman. "That's all he will say."

Darden tapped her fingers on the console. What with assassins after her and being under suspicion for the destruction of Peragus II, strangers were all looking rather shifty at the moment. On the other hand, she was very, very bored. And Ithorians were generally pacifists. She looked over at Kreia sitting motionless and silent on the floor. "Sure. Send him in," she said.

"Very well," said the TSF officer. "I'll let him in now."

The door to their prison opened. Kreia opened her eyes. Atton stopped pacing. The Ithorian was young-looking, dressed simply. He bowed. /Thank you for seeing me,/ he said. /I am Moza, and I have come to see you on behalf of Chodo Habat, our leader here./

Darden nodded. "Can I get you something to drink?" She moved towards the kitchenette, grateful for something to do.

/I would appreciate water. My thanks./

Darden found a glass and filled it with water. She handed it to him. "Please, sit down."

She swung herself up onto the bunk she'd claimed for herself and Moza, for want of better seating, sat down on the end of the bunk opposite. "I'm Darden, that's Kreia, that's Atton," she said, pointing to her companions in turn, "But I guess you know that since you're here to see us. Why are you here on behalf of your leader? Why didn't Chodo Habat come himself?"

/As our leader he has many tasks before him, and regrets that he could not come himself,/ Moza said awkwardly. /The healing of the planet consumes all his time. He means no offense by sending me, his chief assistant./

Darden nodded. "Sure. But what does he want with me?"

Moza shifted and looked uncomfortable. He took a sip of his water. /Are you familiar with the restoration project on Telos?/ he asked finally.

Darden shook her head. "It's just recently come to my attention that Telos was destroyed," she said, half-apologetically. "I've been out of things for years. Tell me."

Moza looked happier now. Darden recollected belatedly that Ithorians were by nature an indirect people and her to-the-point sentences might have been setting Moza on edge. /The surface of Telos was destroyed during the Jedi Civil War a few years ago,/ he said. /This—Citadel Station—is a part of the Republic's planetary restoration initiative. Citadel Station uses energy fields to seal off portions of the planet's surface, then generates and controls the weather patterns over each area. Once the weather in a zone is stabilized, new animal and plant life is introduced to restore the ecosystem. Recently, however, we have run into contention with the corporation known as Czerka. Perhaps you have heard of our recent troubles?/

Darden stopped swinging her feet beneath the bed. "No. Tell me."

/Ithorians are well known as ecologists and agricultural engineers,/ Moza told her. Darden nodded, acknowledging the truth of the statement. /The Telosian government asked those of my herd to help restore their planet. Things went smoothly at first. The Republic funded us generously, hoping Telos would be a model for the restoration of planets damaged by the war. The funding enabled us to purchase flora and fauna from Onderon. Upgrades to Citadel Station's shield network have allowed us to purify and reseed small portions of the surface./

Darden nodded and waved for the Ithorian to continue.

/Then the troubles began. Republic relations with Onderon began to deteriorate, increasing the purchase and transport costs of our biological materials and as the station grew, the Telosian Security Force was no longer large enough to police the entire station./

Darden was really listening now. An overstretched TSF made a lot of sense considering what she had witnessed since landing here.

/Czerka approached the Republic and offered supply and security contracts,/ Moza told her. /Their paramilitary security division now polices two-thirds of Citadel Station. Czerka has integrated themselves into the Telosian political system and economy. They are currently pressing to be awarded our planet restoration contracts. Their efforts hinder our cause greatly, and will have terrible consequences for the planet's restoration./

Moza took another drink of water. Darden was thinking hard. She understood wariness of Czerka. Czerka Corporation was big. It operated both in and out of the Republic, but it was a business, and it existed first and foremost for its own profit. Czerka had a big slave trade, and they weren't fussy who they sold to or aided. She'd had problems with them before, even out on and beyond the Rim. She understood, generally speaking, how it was a bad idea for Czerka Corporation to police two-thirds of a planet. But, on the other hand, they undoubtedly had a lot of resources that could be invaluable in restoring Telos. In this specific case it was tantamount to understand exactly what they were threatening. So she asked. "I see. How exactly is Czerka harming the restoration project?"

Moza nodded. /Czerka recently wrested control of a number of Restoration Zones on the planet's surface from us,/ he said. /These zones began to deteriorate in weeks. If this continues, the restoration process will be brought to a halt, and the Republic will not be willing to continue the funding to resurrect it. Telos will remain dead forever./

Darden tapped her fingers on the bedframe. "How is Czerka acquiring the Restoration Zones?" she asked.

/Through a combination of legal loopholes, purchased political favors, strong-arm tactics and sabotage,/ he reported. Darden frowned. Mostly legally, then. That was bad. If they were as big here on Citadel Station as Moza was representing, dealing with them could be problematic. /We Ithorians are simply not prepared to deal with such,/ Moza admitted. /We are a passive people…we wish only to help restore the natural beauty of Telos./

Darden looked at him, a little less favorably disposed now. The implication was, of course, that the Ithorians could not or would not deal with Czerka's bullying and profit minded policies on Citadel that would harm the restoration project in the long run, but Darden could. That though the Ithorians were a passive people, Darden could fight their battles. "How exactly does Chodo Habat expect me to help?" she said slowly.

/Chodo Habat is a powerful priest,/ Moza said. /Our spiritual leader. He sensed something upon your arrival. A disturbance, an echo in the Force. Chodo felt you might be able to aid us. He bid me tell you that if you could help heal Telos, it might be possible for him to heal you./

Kreia, listening, suddenly frowned. Darden, however, leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

/I am unclear as to what Chodo means by this,/ Moza admitted. /He says the echo he felt upon your arrival suggests that you yourself are damaged. He can feel the pain through the Force./

"Perhaps Chodo Habat should turn his eyes to his own people, if they truly suffer so," Kreia snapped. Darden looked at her, frowning. Wasn't what Chodo was offering what they were looking for, though? Someone to heal her connection to the Force? Or did Kreia only imply that she wanted that? Was Kreia only on board to heal Darden if she herself did the healing?

/Forgive me,/ Moza said, bowing to the old woman. /I am unclear as to Chodo's message, and may have related it incorrectly./ He turned back to Darden. /If this offer of mutual aid interests you, please go to the Ithorian compound here in Residential 082. Chodo Habat would be most happy to see you./

Darden was still looking at Kreia. "I—I will consider it," she said slowly.

Moza rose. /I hope so,/ he said, bowing again. /Farewell./

He left, and the door closed behind him, leaving Darden and her companions to their boring house arrest again, but with more to think about. Darden turned to Kreia and opened her mouth to ask why Kreia seemed so averse to the idea of Chodo Habat helping her if she helped him, but Kreia interrupted. "Now perhaps we will be able to rest uninterrupted."

Atton looked like he wanted to say something, too, but at Kreia's words he closed his mouth. He looked hard at Darden, though. Then she was just as glad that Kreia didn't want to talk. She didn't want to answer his questions on why she might be damaged and require healing, on why she hadn't felt the Force for years until three days ago.

They didn't get to rest uninterrupted. Darden was just dropping into a light doze around seventeen hundred hours when the communications console rang again. Darden went over to it, expecting to see the TSF on it, communicating with her about the investigation, or another random 'caller'. Instead, the display read, 'Czerka Corporation'. Darden frowned. How did Czerka get her contact information? How did they get access? Nevertheless, she accepted the call.

A droid came up on the display, a protocol droid. Not a fake-protocol-but-really-assassin droid like HK-50, but a real honest to goodness annoying protocol droid. "I am B-4D4," it said in the prim tenor so many protocol droids were programmed for. "Administrative assistant for Czerka Corporation's Citadel Station Branch. I am attempting to connect you with Executive Officer Jana Lorso. May I put you through?"

Darden inclined her head. "You may."

"Thank you. I will connect you now," said B-4D4. "Good day."

The screen switched to a visual of a dark haired human woman with a tattooed coronet on her forehead. She had a smile on her lips, but her eyes were hard. "Thank you for accepting my call," she said in a crisp, professional voice. "As my assistant no doubt informed you, I am Jana Lorso."

Darden waved her hand. "Yeah, we did that. I'm Darden Leona, but you know that, too. Why are you calling?"

"I understand that you were approached by an Ithorian earlier," Jana Lorso said. "Doubtless he tried to obtain your help attempting to purchase it with imposed guilt and veiled threats."

Darden went still. So Czerka was worried. That was interesting. It meant they really were doing something they shouldn't be, and didn't want her allied against them. "I was approached by an Ithorian," she said neutrally.

"I believe you're a person of influence," Ms. Lorso said directly. "Someone I'd like on my side, rather than aiding the Ithorians whose quasi-mysticism and bumbling foolishness is standing in the way of progress and profit. I'm not asking for your help, though. I'm offering you a job. Work for Czerka, and be handsomely rewarded. You'd be helping yourself. If you're interested, please visit our offices here in Residential 082. B-4D4 will know what to do when you arrive."

"What sort of work did you have in mind, Ms. Lorso?" Darden asked.

"I'd rather discuss that in person," Jana Lorso told her. "I'll be more than happy to answer any and all questions when you visit our offices."

Darden thought very hard and very fast. She was getting the definite impression that Czerka was into something shady, or at least out for profit more than they were out for Telos. The Ithorian-bashing, the reluctance to discuss the business proposal over the console, calling Darden's room when all callers and visitors were supposed to be TSF-approved. However, it could just be the language the Lorso woman was using and Darden's problems with Czerka in the past that were coloring her perceptions now. She decided on the spot that it'd be better to go and hear Lorso out, at least. If Czerka was up to something that would jeopardize what the Republic was trying to do to heal Telos it'd be the only way she could find out. If they were genuinely trying to help, she was obligated as a person whose aid was sought by both conflicting parties to consider both sides.

"I'll come by when I can," she said.

Jana Lorso gave a wide smile. "Excellent! Good luck with that messy investigation, and I hope to see you shortly."

The line went dead. Darden sat back on her bunk. Atton had been playing solitary pazaak. He looked at her. He didn't say what he thought of her decision to hear out two different people groups that wanted to get her involved on this planet they were trying to leave. He just said, "You should eat something and get back to bed. Whenever they decide to release us, we should get going immediately."

Darden appreciated that he didn't qualify where to. She waved in acknowledgment and went to the kitchenette and cooked up some synthesized pasta—at least, it looked like pasta and tasted something like pasta. She ate it and drank some water, but then she didn't go to bed.

Instead, she got out her pazaak deck and started trying to build a house with the cards, balancing them, and knocking them all over every forty-five seconds because she couldn't keep still.

She thought about the Telosian Restoration Project. Ideally, she'd like to stay a few days after their release and help out. Maybe a few weeks. Darden had left more than one world in ruins, though she had only ever ripped one planet entirely apart. But she couldn't recall ever having helped rebuild one before. She knocked the house down again and fell on her side, angry. She ought to have. Why hadn't she?

Then there were the Sith, the Exchange. There was her lethal bond with Kreia. Darden thought that they were supposed to be either on some journey to outrun the Sith across the galaxy, or to find the Jedi when she was supposed to be the last one. She still wasn't sure which. But either one meant she couldn't stay, even if she wanted to. And whatever she did, she'd have to be acquitted of the destruction of Peragus before she did it. She turned up to face the ceiling again and started counting the ninety six tiles a seventeenth time.

* * *

She was sleeping, if you could call the tossing and turning and thrashing around she was doing sleeping. Atton watched, wanting to wake her up, but not quite sure she'd thank him if he did so. More like punch him in the nose. He'd seen her move this morning in the TSF detainee room. He'd have to remember that with Darden Leona, size was no indicator of her ability to destroy an opponent.

He got up from where he leaned against the kitchen counter and went over to where Kreia was sitting, legs crossed. He sat on the bunk beside her. "Explain something to me," he murmured.

"I do not have the years required," she said drily. "Nor the desire to indulge you."

Atton bit back the sarcastic retort that was just dying to be made. Darden had stopped thrashing around, only to start shuddering. A tear rolled down her cheek, and then she fell still. "If she served in the war—well, Jedi are supposed to be tough. Capable."

Kreia looked at him then. "Yes," she replied, "And what are they without the Force? Take the greatest Jedi Knight; strip away the Force, and what remains? They rely on it; depend on it, more than they know. Watch as one tries to hold a blaster, as they try to hold a lightsaber, and you will see nothing more than a woman," she paused and nodded at him. "Or a man. A child." Her single hand gestured to Darden. And she shrugged.

Atton had been on his own for maybe six or seven years, but even then he'd found periodic companionship. Work. Or at least a bottle of juma. He imagined being alone for twice that. Exiled, and not a deserter. Tied to principles that no longer claimed him, and minus a sense he'd always had after…well, who knew what Darden had gone through? She kept it together well enough when she was awake, but just now, he could see how tired, how afraid she was. "But to lose so much…" he muttered to Kreia. "I guess I didn't realize how much they relied on it." The Force had always been a power the Jedi wielded, a power they either refused to wield when needed or a weapon they turned against the weak. He'd never considered that the Force might work as a crutch, though now that he thought about it, he'd exploited it that way before.

"Do not be surprised," Kreia said. "In many ways, even you are more capable than a Jedi. You could survive where they could not simply because you do not hear the Force as they do. It is irony of a sort—and why I tolerate your presence now."

Atton immediately started thinking of his pazaak deck. _Draw two, add four. Six. Opponent starts ten. Draw five. Eleven. Opponent draws three. Thirteen. _

Kreia shifted and he thought he saw her blind eyes point towards him beneath her hood with question and suspicion. "Such a loss of ability—for a Jedi, it seems so extreme," he said, to calm her. As a matter of fact, though Darden seemed oddly vulnerable to him right now, she didn't seem weak or incapable at all. He'd seen her nervous, seen her mad, but he hadn't yet seen her unable to accomplish a task. But Kreia bought it.

"She has been gone from war some time," she said musingly, now turning her eyes upon Darden. "It is conflict that strengthens us, and isolation that weakens us, erodes us." The corner of the old lady's thin mouth quirked and her voice became stronger, more contemptuous. "Add to that that she turned away from war, did all that she could to forget it, and the last piece clicks into place."

Yeah, he'd noticed that much. Darden about combusted every time he so much as thought _Mandalorian Wars_. It was driving him up the wall with curiosity, and usually Atton was good about letting kinrath nests lay.

"But we have spoken enough of this," Kreia told him, "And we do her a disservice by not speaking of this while she is awake."

He nodded. "Yeah, all right." He got up and went to his own bunk.

Darden was sleeping soundly now, curled up tightly around herself. Her eyelashes were wet. Atton looked at them for so long he'd forgotten he was doing it when Kreia cleared her throat pointedly. He glared at the old lady. What was a guy supposed to do? She was beautiful.

Atton lay back in his bunk and folded his hands behind his head. He needed to get off this Station. He didn't want to run into the Sith again any more than Darden and the hag did, though maybe they weren't _looking _for _him_ anymore. And if those TSF idiots led them straight back here! Still, he didn't know that he wouldn't mind sticking around with Darden Leona, her insanity and the old lady included, even. At least for a while. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. And he owed her one, for Peragus. Atton grinned up at the ceiling. If he did end up sticking around, he might see if he could get Ms. Darden Leona Not-A-Jedi dreaming dreams a bit more pleasant.

* * *

The next evening the doors to their prison opened again, and Lieutenant Grenn walked through them. Darden jumped up and bowed. He bowed back, and smiled. "I've come to inform you that the Telosian government has completed its inspection of what's left of the Peragus facility. It appears another Republic vessel—the _Harbinger _had been present—though it was gone when our ships arrived. It was responsible for the station's destruction. Logs from the mining station recovered from your gear indicated that the miners perished as a result of sabotage, which began while you and your companions were either incapacitated or incarcerated. As such, you are to be released from house arrest."

Darden beamed and strode forward to shake the Lieutenant's hand, but he held it up. "However—the Republic is sending its own ship. They have insisted that you remain on-station for the duration of their search."

Darden checked, and then nodded. She ought to have expected this. "And how long will that be?" she asked quietly.

"The _Sojourn_ is already en route; likely not more than a few standard days," Grenn told them. "Feel free to use these quarters during your stay."

"Thank you," Darden said. She hesitated, then asked, "Is the _Hawk _still impounded?"

Grenn looked hard at her. She kept her face entirely neutral, and he relaxed. "The vessel's I&D is complete," he said. "You may visit the TSF station in Entertainment Module 081 to complete the necessary paperwork at the front desk. The _Ebon Hawk_ should be transferred from the impound docks by the time you're free to leave."

Now Darden paused. That was good. The implication was that she wouldn't necessarily be leaving with the Republic when they arrived. Perhaps they would leave her to her own devices? She nodded thoughtfully. "And my T3 droid?"

Lieutenant Grenn said, "After filling out the paperwork, it'll be transferred with your ship, along with your confiscated weapons and armor."

He bowed again, and left the apartment. The guards went with him. And when the door shut, this time it didn't lock.

Atton stood up from where he had been sitting on his bunk. He stretched, then folded his arms and looked at Darden. "Well, now what? We can't just stick around. We need to find a way off this station, whether it's the _Ebon Hawk_ or some other ship. We could hit Nar Shadaa, maybe." He nodded at Darden. "If you've got people coming after you, it's where you go to get lost in a crowd."

Darden shifted. "And you would know?"

He lifted his hands. "Hey, everyone needs to get lost once in a while. Get away from something, you know? It's no big deal."

Darden looked over at her 'teacher'. "Kreia?"

Kreia stood, more easily than Darden would have thought an old woman with a recently cut-off hand could stand. "It is difficult to say. I feel we came to Telos for a reason, but we may have spent too much time here already. Even if the Harbinger was destroyed at Peragus, more Sith could already be on their way." She inclined her head. "Still, there is a chance we might learn of other Jedi here, on the planet's surface. Jedi who might help us restore your abilities or sever the link between us."

Well, they already were sort of expected at the Ithorian compound, Darden thought, where Chodo Habat had offered to do something that might just be that, if she helped them out, too.

Atton looked at her. "Well? What do you think?"

Apparently because she was the one the Sith were after and the one who's abilities were damaged it was her call. Darden didn't like that. It felt too much like responsibility, like she was in charge of these people. She looked at the floor. "I think—whether we find something here or not, I don't want to be stuck here. We need a ship. Let's go get the _Ebon Hawk_."

Kreia nodded, and Atton shrugged. "Makes sense. I'll follow your lead."

Darden frowned at him. He would. Since when? She didn't mention it at the moment, though. She just led the way out of C block in Residential Module 082 and back towards Entertainment Module 081.

As they walked, Darden walked next to Kreia. "It's too late today to do much more than pick up the ship," she said. "But tomorrow I want to go see Czerka. And the Ithorians."

"Why have you chosen this path?" she asked calmly.

Darden shrugged. "I don't want to be put under house arrest again," she said. "And I don't need the Republic after me, too. If we _can_ spare the time I think it'd be a good idea to see what's going on here. If we go places and talk to people it'll be easier to hear about any Jedi, and, anyway, I think Chodo Habat meant he sensed my disconnection to the Force when he talked about damage to Moza. Ithorians aren't quite Jedi, but some of them can feel and use the Force. If he can help…"

"His help will not come without fee," Kreia warned.

Darden nodded. "I know."

"Have a care how you entangle yourself in the operations of this world," Kreia said. "We cannot stay. Your guilt hampers you, imprisons you more surely than our quarters did these two days past."

Darden looked away from her. "Maybe so. Maybe helping Telos is the key to the prison."

Kreia sniffed. "You know so little. Yet, there is some truth to what you say. We cannot hope to find if we do not first look. Tonight I shall meditate on our course."

Darden nodded. "That's all I ask. Thanks for thinking about it."

She quickened her pace to shorten the distance between Atton, whom had drawn ahead, and herself and Kreia.

Without TSF escort it was easier to get a feel for Citadel Station. Darden could feel hope around her, but she could also feel the tension. There were too many people in armor around, people that carried Czerka-issue weaponry and walked with the hard faces and swaggering gait of hired mercenaries. More than once in the corridors and lanes Darden heard reference to troubles on Onderon, skyrocketing prices, and the destruction of the Peragus fuel station.

She quickened her pace again to draw level with Atton. "Atton—Peragus. They provided the fuel for this station to run, didn't they?"

He looked at her. "You didn't know?"

She shook her head mutely.

"Yeah. Why I really didn't want to come here after what went down there. If they'd have decided we did blow up the station—"he let out a low whistle. "Well. Let's just say I'm glad they didn't."

"But how are they going to keep running?" Darden asked. "The Restoration, the people here. What are they going to do?"

He shrugged. "They'll have to find a new fuel source, won't they? At a good price, too. Don't think they have a lot of credits to spare around here, or they'd ratchet up security. If they don't find a new fuel source, though, eventually they'll have to shut down."

Darden looked at the path ahead, biting her lip. If she hadn't been on Peragus, the Sith would never have had an occasion to blow it up. It _wasn't_ her fault, but it was indisputable that if she hadn't been there Citadel Station would be much better off now.

Atton seemed to pick up on her anxiety. It clearly made him uncomfortable. "Hey—don't worry about them, okay? You've got your own problems."

"Yeah, problems that caused their problems," Darden said. But they'd entered the TSF office. Another standard protocol droid was at the desk.

"Welcome to Entertainment Module 081's TSF station. How may I be of assistance?"

Darden went up to the desk. "My name is Darden Leona," she said clearly. "I was told I could get my ship and possessions out of impound here?"

"I will call up the appropriate information now," the droid said. "One moment…" Its visual sensors went out of focus. Darden could see the numbers running behind them. "Searching…One moment." Something clicked. The droid looked at her. Its head moved first to one side, then the other. Its wrist rotated all the way around three times. It looked as nervous and as apologetic as a droid could. Darden got a nasty, horrible feeling in the bit of her stomach.

"I regret to inform you that the _Ebon Hawk_ is gone," the droid said. "The TSF believes it was stolen and is currently investigating."

For a moment, Darden just stared. "Stolen," she repeated at last, slowly. "Just how could that have happened?"

"It seems the Ebon Hawk was transferred to Telos' surface instead of an impound dock. However, both the requester and the point of delivery are unknown. In addition, the vessel is not showing up at any government sanctioned landing site. I would conjecture that it has been stolen and that the TSF records have been illegally accessed and modified."

The droid said all this very fast. Darden's hands began to shake. Kreia came up beside her. Atton, however, brought his hand down hard on the desk, thumping it loudly. "I knew it!" he cried. "That stupid T3 unit stole our ship! It's probably joyriding through the system right now, laughing at us…laughing at me!"

It was so ridiculous Darden almost cried, but laughed instead. The droid however, ceased looking nervous and looked annoyed instead. "That is unlikely," it said crisply. "While your utility droid is not accounted for, numerous satellites track all incoming and outgoing vessels. There is no record of the _Ebon Hawk _leaving the system."

Atton's tone changed so completely, so fast, that Darden was sure he'd been putting it on. "Wait. You're saying the ship's _actually_ somewhere on Telos' surface?" he demanded. "I don't understand. Telos' atmosphere is highly corrosive outside the shielded Restoration Zones. Where else could somebody land safely?"

The droid started to look nervous again. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that's all the information I have for you. Of course, the quarters in Residential Module 082 will remain yours until the situation is resolved."

Darden spread her hands on the desk. "Was there _anything _else in the system about our ship?" she begged.

The droid said, "There was a query regarding the _Ebon Hawk_'s ID signature sent from the Peragus mining facility. However, all data collected in response to the query has been deleted. It is likely that this information was removed when the vessel's transfer request was modified."

Darden took a deep breath. She looked at Kreia, then at Atton. "Right. Complications. More of them." She looked back at the droid. "Look, can we at least get our stuff back?"

The droid brightened. "Fortunately, your possessions were kept in the armory and were uncompromised," it related. "I will open the door for you so that you may retrieve them. You will find them in the security lockers."

"And what are we supposed to do then?" Darden snapped.

"I am not qualified to answer that question," the droid said infuriatingly. "However, it is unlikely that someone could steal a starship from under TSF observation without considerable backing. If your vessel has been stolen, there is a fair chance that the Exchange possesses relevant information. I do not know what else to suggest, beyond waiting in your quarters for further word."

Darden had gone very still when the droid had said 'Exchange'. So had Kreia. Atton was looking at Darden apprehensively. "The Exchange," she said flatly. "They're here?"

"They are trying to gain a foothold in the Citadel," the droid told them helpfully. "Most likely seeking to integrate themselves as fully as possible with the new Telos. It is rumored that the Bumani Exchange Corporation, located in Residential Module 082, is the front for the Exchange on Citadel Station."

"Force, we really do need to get out of here," Darden muttered. "Look, isn't there anything more the TSF can do?" she asked the droid.

"Not beyond investigating the matter and extending our offer of free room and board," the droid said, as if with regret.

Darden scowled. "Well, that's something at least. Thank you for the information."

The door off to the side opened, and Darden led the way into the armory. The lockers were unsecured. The first two in the bank had her pack and Atton's in them, with all their weapons, food, and credits, though Darden noticed that the holo-logs from the mining facility were no longer there. She tossed Atton's bag to him.

"So," he said. "What're we going to do?"

Darden shrugged. "It could be a trap," she said, quietly, so they weren't overheard. "I think Grenn knew when I asked about the ship that I wasn't all for waiting in my quarters like a good girl for the Republic to get here."

"What, like they fed the droid bad information and have really got the _Hawk_ hidden away someplace until the Republic gets here? I don't think so," Atton said. "These guys are way too on the level for that, especially Grenn."

"No," Kreia agreed. "This interference comes from a different source."

"It could be the Exchange. Cutting me off from the ship and stealing a good freighter into the bargain," Darden said.

"I still think it was that trash compactor of yours," Atton shrugged, starting out of the station. "Never trust a droid."

"Teethree's all right," Darden objected. "I hope he's okay. I don't think it was the Exchange, either, though. I think that guy from the other day—the one that pretended to be Batu Rem? I think he was working alone. There'll be further attempts, but stealing the _Hawk_ isn't one of them. No," she said firmly, making up her mind. "You're right, Kreia, this is something else."

"But what are we going to _do_?" Atton said again. "We can't be stuck here." They were making their way around the cantina, heading back towards Residential 081.

Darden looked at him hard. "_We're_ not," she said, deciding she had to talk to Atton one on one, and soon. "There's always a way out, remember? It'll just be…more complicated, is all."

* * *

**A/N: Leave a review and tell me what you think!**

**In the next chapter: Darden Leona gets involved in the mire that is the Telosian Restoration Project and discovers that what she is really dealing with is not so much preserving or destroying Telos, as two different visions of what Telos ought to be. A beautiful planet, a peaceful planet, a lawful planet? Or an efficient planet, a profitable planet, a colony of credits? Darden Leona can tip the balance one way or the other. In the meantime, the **_**Hawk**_** is lost, stolen by person or persons unknown, the Exchange is still trying to kill her, Kreia makes a confession, and Darden must determine why in the galaxy Atton is still hanging around now they've been released from house arrest. Stay tuned! **

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp**


	8. Meddling, With the Best of Intentions

**Disclaimer: I feel like an HK droid.**

* * *

VII.

Meddling, With the Best of Intentions

Darden got into a fight before she got back to the apartment. Two Czerka mercs somewhat the worse for drink were harassing a Sullistan that had bumped into them. When they started talking about breaking his legs, Darden had to get involved. She didn't shoot them. Instead, she kicked one's knees out from under him and brought the butt of her blaster down on his head. Hard. When she turned to take out the other, Kreia had already shoved him into the wall with the Force, albeit with a disgusted expression of disapproval. Darden knocked him out, too. Then she warned the Sullistan to stay out of the cantina for a couple weeks, and whistled at a passing TSF officer on his way off-shift. She acquainted him with the situation and left him to it. They'd gone back to the apartment. Kreia had sat down to meditate immediately.

Darden had started working on her blaster again with the spare parts she had in her pack, but Atton was staring at her again. Darden looked up at him. His blue eyes flicked over to Kreia and he made a face. Darden tried not to smile, but he caught that she was trying and grinned. Darden sighed, deciding what had to be done was best done soon. So she repacked her blaster, jerked her head at the door, then headed out without disturbing Kreia.

He caught on quick. A few minutes later, Atton had caught up to Darden halfway down the Residential 082 East corridor.

"What is it?"

"You're confusing me," Darden told him without preamble. "I don't know if you'd noticed, but we're not under arrest anymore."

"Still trapped here, though," Atton said.

Darden looked at him pointedly. "_I'm _trapped here. The Republic's coming for _me_. Czerka, the Ithorians, the Exchange, the Sith, whether they want me dead or on the payroll it's me they want. Last Jedi in the galaxy—whether or not I actually _am_ one—it'd be a nightmare trying to find a shuttle stupid enough to take me on. Same goes for Kreia. Handicapped blind woman her age is going to have a hard time finding work. We have to stay together anyway."

"Why?" Atton wanted to know.

Darden sighed. "I think the only reason I can feel the Force at all now is because of the bond we've formed," she told him frankly. "She says she'll teach me, and it's better today than it was three days ago, but I still need her."

"Wait a minute," Atton said. "She said you guys were looking for someone to sever your bond. Why would you want to do that, if it's helping you?"

Darden looked up at him. She hesitated. He regarded her, and she nodded, deciding. "What the hell," she said. "I'll trust you. Remember back on Peragus, in the fuel line? I sensed it when her hand got cut off."

"Yeah," Atton said, frowning.

"I may have played down what exactly happened there," Darden admitted. "It sort of felt like _my _hand had been dipped in molten carbonite. Those first few seconds I almost passed out. I built a wall in my head, but I could feel her pain that entire evening. I talked to her about it—neither of us has ever heard of anything like it, but she thinks that if—"she trailed off, unable to say it.

Atton swore softly. "You _have_ to take care of that," he said. "Tied to that—"he cut himself off. "So. You're stuck with her. What's your point?"

"You were going to leave, that's the point," Darden said. "Look, Atton, you're not the last Jedi in the galaxy. You've got all your limbs, a blaster, and if we split up what we scrounged on Peragus, you've got a couple hundred credits. You could buy passage out of here. Or get a job. Whatever. _You're_ not stuck."

Atton thrust his hands in his pockets. "Guess not. You that keen to get rid of me, sweetheart?"

Darden sighed. "It's not that," she said. "I just don't get it. Four days ago, you were all 'enough with the we already' and 'I was better off in my cell'. Now no one is using the word 'we' more than you. Are you sticking around or not?"

Atton looked away. He shrugged. "I just figure I owe you one, is all. If it hadn't been for you I'd be starving back in that cell on Peragus—or blown up. Who knows? And it's not like I've got anything better to do. Not that I care what happens to you or anything, but I guess I could at least help you find a way off Citadel."

"_Right_," Darden said, looking hard at him.

He laughed at her. "You could stand to loosen up a little, you know. For someone that's _not a Jedi_, you sure spend a lot of time acting like one, Darden."

Darden looked away. "Habit, I guess," she said. "I was a Jedi for twenty years. Since I was four years old. I've only not been one for ten. And it wasn't like I _decided_ to leave the Order."

Atton opened his mouth. For a second, Darden thought he was going to ask again. Who she was, what she'd done, what had happened. But he seemed to rethink it, and he closed his mouth again. She smiled. "Thank you," she said quietly, turning around to walk back towards the apartment.

"If you ever do feel like telling me," Atton shrugged, grinning at her. "Not like I'm not dying to know."

Darden just kept walking. Atton drew a little closer. "Or, if you ever want to loosen up—stop acting like a Jedi, since you're _not _one. I'd be _more_ than happy to give you a few pointers."

He winked at her. Darden edged away, refusing to look at him. He shrugged. "Or not," he said, after a moment of silence. "That's fine, too."

The silence stretched between them. Atton's ears were red and he was staring at the ground. Darden, watching him out of the corner of her eye, wondered if he'd meant the questions he hadn't asked more seriously than he hadn't posed them. She scowled at the ground herself. He seemed more honest than Kreia, but Darden was finding that Atton still rarely said what he really meant. She felt unaccountably guilty, though, about his embarrassment and hurt, and that made her angry. She kicked the floor. The silence really was getting unbearably awkward.

So Darden said, "I saw you playing pazaak in the apartment. You any good?"

He shrugged. "I'm all right. We could play a game, if you like. Don't fancy wagering our credits, though, so it'd have to be Republic Senate rules."

"Nobody wins, everybody loses?" Darden said, smiling at the slang for a practice game.

Atton grinned. "Exactly. But it'll pass the time. I'd suggest we make things more interesting and play Nar Shadaa rules—"

"No." Darden said flatly.

"Keep your hair on," Atton said. "I get it, okay? Besides, I don't care to strip for the old witch. Do you?"

"Oh," Darden said. "That's okay, then. Republic Senate rules?"

"You're on."

* * *

Darden was up early the next morning, and for some reason, she felt good. The _Ebon Hawk_ was stolen, she had a lethal Force Bond with a strange old woman whose motives she still was unable to fathom, and half the galaxy was after her, but she felt good. She wasn't in prison today, at least. She had places to go, and people to go places with. And this morning, she didn't mind that last as much as she had earlier. She felt the Force humming in the back of her head and around her, drifting like a current through Citadel Station.

She started making breakfast using the apartment-issue cookware and the food the TSF had provided them. Fresh fruit, some freeze-dried flat cakes she was able to warm up, even some meat. The meat was sizzling in the pan when Kreia woke up.

"Ah. You feel it, this morning. The Force flowing through you. Have you chosen a path?"

"I thought we'd go see Czerka first," Darden told her. "They're closer to us, anyway, and I figure I'd rather deal with them now when I'm not likely to start shooting them than later when I might not be feeling so generous."

"You are suspicious of their motives. That is good. You are keeping your eyes open, your mind alert," Kreia said.

"I know their kind," Darden explained, "It's fishy that they were able to reach us in this room when we were under house arrest and all calls and visits were supposed to be screened by the TSF. It's more suspicious that they knew who I was and that the Ithorians had already approached me, and it's most suspicious that the Lorso woman wouldn't tell me what she wanted me to do for them over the line and wanted me to show up in person." She shrugged. "But I figure they have resources, and we need resources. And it's not fair to judge them until they have a chance to explain themselves." She started putting cakes and fruit and meat on plates, and filling glasses with water.

"Come eat something. We'll probably need our strength."

Atton sat up now. "What?" he mumbled. "Oh, you made breakfast. Smells good. Love a woman that can cook." His bare feet hit the floor, and he ran his hands through his hair, standing it on end. His eyes were heavy with sleep.

Kreia opened her mouth to say something scathing, but Darden cut her off. "Atton, try not to talk until you've properly rejoined the living, okay?"

"Mmm. Okay," he said, coming over to the table with Kreia.

Darden sat down with the two of them and started eating. "So. The plan is to get a feel for this place," she told them in between mouthfuls. "Check out our contacts, ask around. Be on the lookout for any alternate way off Citadel, or any word on the _Ebon Hawk_. The Exchange might pose a problem, so we'll watch out for them, too. I think we managed to blow up the _Harbinger, _so the Sith shouldn't be here today or tomorrow, but we can't stay for the summer."

"Shame," Atton cracked, beginning to wake up now. "I hear they're lovely—recycled air and no windows and metal floors up here. We could take day trips down to the surface and bask in the toxic breeze."

Kreia frowned in disapprobation, but Darden smiled. "I'll have to contain my disappointment."

"The longer we stay, the more we tempt fate," Kreia said.

"No one's arguing," Darden said before Atton could say something rude. "But we can't find anything out unless we take time to look."

"Then let us be on our way and not waste any more time with frivolous banter," she said.

Darden sighed. "Sure, Kreia. We can do that. Let me do the dishes, first."

She grabbed the plates and set off to the sink, feeling much less cheerful. It occurred to her that Jedi Masters never did have much of a sense of humor. She'd always turned to her fellow Knights and the younglings before, when she needed a laugh. She'd joked with a friend once that the Council probably didn't permit someone to pass to Master that laughed more than three times a year. She didn't know if Kreia was a Jedi, but she certainly had that bit down.

Atton went to the fresher and returned with his clothes semi-straightened and his hair gotten into some sort of array, anyway. The blaster they'd picked up for him on Peragus was in its holster on his hip, and he was carrying his pack. "I didn't grab everything," he told Darden, who was finishing up washing her pan in the kitchenette. "Just a couple of ration bars, two extra power packs, and an empty datapad."

"Yeah," Darden said. "I'll grab mine, too, with the credits and our water skins."

"I'll fill 'em up," Atton said.

Darden finished washing up, and Kreia went to the door imperiously. "Let us go."

Darden grabbed her blaster and her pack. "Sure. Let's do that."

* * *

When she told B-4D4 at the Czerka reception desk her name, he greeted her civilly and immediately gave her directions to Jana Lorso's office. Apparently, Ms. Lorso was not busy doing anything that couldn't be put aside to see Darden. Darden filed the information away for reference later, and with Kreia and Atton, took the path B-4D4 indicated.

It led through a good bit of the Czerka office. Enough that Darden could see that there were many mercenaries milling around with the employees. Big and heavily armed mercenaries. Too many of them. She frowned.

When she got to Jana Lorso's office, the woman looked up immediately and gave that bright, fake smile that didn't illuminate her cold, calculating eyes.

"I knew you'd come eventually," she said in satisfaction. "I am confident that we will be able to reach a working agreement satisfactory to both you and I. But where are my manners? On behalf of the Czerka Corporation, I would like to be the first to welcome you to Telos."

Darden took the woman's proffered hand. "Nice to meet you in person, Ms. Lorso. These are my friends, Kreia and Atton Rand. Anything you can say to me you can say to them."

Jana Lorso turned her phony smile on Kreia and Atton. "Pleasure. I'm sure any friends of the last Jedi have to be…capable sorts."

"Let's cut to the chase, Ms. Lorso," Darden said. "You want my help, I'm not sure if I want to give it. You mentioned the Ithorians before. But I have to tell you that they approached me using neither guilt nor threats to influence me when they asked for my help. I'm here today because I wanted to hear what Czerka had to say about their complaints."

Jana Lorso nodded briskly. "I can understand why you might be on their side," she said, "But believe me, you won't be doing Telos any favors assisting those amateurs."

Darden raised an eyebrow. "Ithorians are among the best ecological engineers in the galaxy. And Habat's herd certainly seems to sincerely want to help Telos."

Jana Lorso clicked her tongue in irritation. "Oh, sure, Habat's intentions are good enough, and you won't hear me complaining about their engineering expertise, but he still doesn't know what he's doing. Good intentions won't restore Telos, Ms. Leona—or Darden—can I call you Darden?"

Darden inclined her head and gestured for the woman to continue.

"Chodo Habat's expensive policy of relocating biological specimens from Onderon without any planning will doom Telos in the end," she said. "I doubt Habat even realizes that at their current pace, they will run out of funding before even half of the Restoration Zones are up and running. Czerka plans to use some of the planet's own resources to help fund the restoration. These extra funds will greatly improve the project in the long run. Habat, on the other hand, can't see beyond his own selfish concerns."

Darden had been nodding, but the characterization of Chodo Habat as selfish gave her pause. Still, Jana Lorso had a point. If Telos could help support some of its own restoration that could cut costs a great deal, especially if there was trouble on Onderon. But something told her-and it wasn't just the uniform and the insignia on it- that she needed to pry further. "What do you mean by Telos' own resources?" she asked. "The planet was bombed into rubble, and Citadel is stretched thin as it is."

"We've discovered that the surface of Telos is covered with military facilities that were either destroyed or abandoned during the Sith attack," Jana Lorso said. "Salvaged raw materials from these sites can either be reprocessed and put back into service, or resold to help fund the project."

_Or Czerka's business interests, _Darden added in her head, seeing the angle now. If Czerka got access to Telos, they would rebuild it one way or the other. They would have to, to maintain good relations with the Republic, which held the vast majority of the worlds on which the corporation did business. But Telos would be a very different place from the planet it had been, if Czerka was going to start by stripping the old military bases for weapons. Instead of a planet of gentle farmland and sweeping coasts, where soft breezes blew and those Jedi dismissed from training had been able to come and find some peace, it would be a planet of metal and wheels and factories, of cold credits and profit. "I see," Darden said. "Just what do you want me to do for you, Ms. Lorso?"

"Czerka has been managing the Restoration Project without the assistance of a droid for some time now," Jana Lorso told her. "Habat has commandeered the new droid intelligence that was to be delivered to the Station. I'd like for you to meet the shipment at Dock Module 126, Shuttle Bay 2, and bring the droid back here before the Ithorians foul things up again."

Darden went very still. She remembered walking out of the docking bays in Dock Module 126. She had seen Docking Bay 2 on her way out, and it wasn't registered to Czerka. "Docking Bay 2 is registered to Chodo Habat and his herd," she said quietly. "By commandeered, you mean that he's been awarded rights to the droid. You want me to steal it?"

Jana Lorso gave her a pitying smile and waved a hand dismissively. "'Requisition', if it helps," she said. "As the Republic's fund for the restoration of Telos is now divided between both parties, it really isn't 'stealing', as you put it. It will save the Republic time and money if we cut through the process of having the droid transferred to us. It will be better for Telos in the long run."

Darden shifted so that her blaster was more accessible on her hip, though she didn't move her hand towards it. "You've got the lingo down pat, Ms. Lorso," she said slowly. "For a while there, you almost had me convinced. You know, I met a droid a few days ago that referred to its function as 'facilitating communications and terminating hostilities', in much the same sense as you just used the word 'requisition'. Of course, when the droid said it facilitated communication and terminated hostilities, what it meant was it eliminated every potential threat in the Peragus mining facility. And everyone was a potential threat." She smiled at Jana Lorso and spread her hands. "Stealing is stealing, Ms. Lorso. And it's a crime."

Jana Lorso's face had been getting hard. She made one last effort. "If you're worried about the TSF, don't be," she said. "If they poke their noses into your business, I will personally take care of it. But I wouldn't worry too much. The TSF understands the importance of letting us do our work."

Darden hesitated. Of course, she wanted to give the executive officer of the Citadel Station Czerka Branch a flat no, and tell her more explicitly what she thought of her and her ethics into the bargain. But considering that Jana Lorso was right, and the TSF probably did understand Czerka's importance, or at least their power, mouthing off right now didn't seem like a prudent idea. Darden recalled the dozens of powerful mercenaries in between them and the door. On the other hand, Darden couldn't, having said as much as she'd said already, lie and tell Jana Lorso she'd do it and expect to be believed. So she frowned, as if considering Jana Lorso's words. "I'll have to think about it," she said.

Jana Lorso looked disappointed, but not suspicious or angry. She nodded, and extended her hand. "Very well, then. I hope to see you soon."

Darden shook her hand, and, as quickly as she could without looking like she was trying to be quick, led Kreia and Atton out of the Czerka offices.

"You aren't going to do it, are you?" Atton said. It wasn't really a question.

"No. "

"All right," he said. "It's your call, but those people have loads of credits. They could probably get us off-world no problem if we helped them out for a while."

Darden nodded. "You're right. But if I helped them out I'd hate myself for doing it—and I couldn't help worrying that they'd turn me over to the Exchange in a heartbeat for a few hundred extra credits on the quarterly report to their superiors."

"Well, yeah," Atton conceded. "That's true. Yeah, you probably know best." And he seemed a little happier. "So the Ithorians, then?"

"Yeah," Darden said. "We'll see what they have to say."

"Have a care that you do not become drawn into the conflict," Kreia warned. "These people, these warring groups, are only of value as they are a help to your cause."

Darden looked sharply at her. She didn't argue, but she spent the rest of the walk to the Ithorian compound deep in thought about whether Kreia really was a Jedi.

The Ithorian receptionist greeted them quite as civilly as B-4D4 had done, and again, Darden was made sensible of her importance here on Citadel. Despite Chodo Habat's inability to come visit her in person the other day due to his duties, his schedule was wide open now. She walked through the Ithorian compound. Instead of mercenaries, here they had plants. Big, brightly colored, fragrant plants. Darden had never been much of a botanist, so she didn't know whether they were native to the Ithorian homeworld or specimens of the plant life the herd here wanted to introduce or reintroduce to Telos, but nevertheless the smell of them relaxed her. She felt their presence through the Force, natural on this unnatural satellite station.

When she and her companions came into the room the receptionist had indicated, she recognized Moza immediately, and wasn't, therefore, at a loss for the name of the more stooped, wrinkled Ithorian in white that came forward and gripped her arms. /Ah, it gladdens me that you came,/ the priest said. /I am Chodo Habat, leader of the Ithorians here. I am sorry to impose our troubles upon you, but I did not know where to turn until I sensed your arrival./

Darden waited until Chodo released her arms, then bowed. "I am Darden Leona. These my friends are Kreia and Atton Rand."

Chodo Habat bowed to them in turn. Kreia gave a frosty bow, and Atton, surprised, jerked his head a little. /You are welcome here, Kreia and Atton Rand. Thank you for coming./

"You sent Moza to me because you sensed my arrival," Darden said. It was a statement, but the question was implicit, and Habat caught it.

/Yes,/ he said. /I am a priest of my people, an adept in the Force. I sensed an echo within the Force upon your arrival…it is a subtle disturbance, unless one is actively listening for it. I suspected you were one of the remaining Jedi, and hoped that you could help us. This is why I sent Moza to seek you out./

Darden sighed. "Look, I'm not a Jedi," she told him. "I was trained as one, yes, but I was exiled, many years ago. The Jedi don't recognize me as belonging to them, even if there are any still alive, and I haven't wielded a lightsaber or used the Force for years."

Chodo Habat nodded, frowning a little. /I understand, and I hope that I have not offended you. Perhaps you might help us just the same./

Darden inclined her head. "That depends on what you want from me."

Chodo Habat blinked. /Tell me—do you know of the problems our restoration efforts face?/ he asked, hesitantly.

Darden looked over at his aid. Moza bowed. "Moza told me about what you're doing here," she said. "I've just been to see Czerka myself to get the whole story. I can see how you might be having difficulties with them."

Chodo Habat's head bobbed on his long neck. /Our first goal is to get the Restoration Project moving forward again,/ he told her. /The Republic originally provided a droid intelligence to Citadel Station that would help manage the logistics of the project. It vanished some time ago./

Darden frowned, and focused. "Vanished. How?"

Habat spread his arms helplessly. /That is not known. It may have been an accident. Perhaps the droid intelligence was overtaxed by the staggering size of the project and became irrational. Some among my herd suspect theft. A droid intelligence of that sophistication would fetch a high price on the black market. Others fear its disappearance is the result of sabotage, by Czerka or some other organization that seeks to slow the Restoration Project or discredit us./

Darden shook her head. "It's not Czerka, at least. They don't have a droid, either, and if they had one to help them run their Restoration Zones they would have kept it."

/At any rate, the how or why of it is irrelevant,/ Habat said, waving his hand. /At great expense, my herd has acquired a second, somewhat lesser droid intelligence to take its place. It will arrive at Citadel Station shortly. The Telosian government has offered a small escort, but I had hoped that you might see its safe transition from the docks to here. Might you aid us in this matter?/

Darden considered only a moment. Czerka wanted that droid. It was no great leap to imagine that now that Darden had been reluctant to steal it, the next step Jana Lorso would take would be to send some of her mercenaries. The Ithorians couldn't outgun them, and the TSF was spread thin enough as it is. Whatever escort they provided would be small and ineffectual.

The task was easy and morally supportable. If Darden aided Chodo Habat now, he might answer some of her questions once she returned. So she nodded. "Yeah. I'll help you out."

/My thanks,/ Habat said. /I will send word to my people. They will be awaiting your arrival in Bay Two, Dock Module 126./

"We'll go right now," Darden said.

She led the way out of the compound towards the shuttle. "We have allied with the Ithorians, then?" Kreia said. "An interesting choice. They are hardly the most powerful group on the Station."

"It's their droid," Darden said simply, shrugging.

"Keep in mind our ultimate objective," Kreia warned.

"I am," Darden said. "Four groups on the Station. The TSF, the Exchange, Czerka, and the Ithorians. Of the four, the TSF doesn't want us to leave, and the Exchange wants to capture or kill us. We can't trust Czerka, nor do we want to risk making an enemy of the TSF again by aiding Czerka in committing a crime. So, by process of elimination, we ally with the Ithorians. Because they're in charge of the planet restoration, they'll have to have access to the surface, and according to our last information on the _Ebon Hawk_, that's where it is." She shrugged. "So we play Habat's game for a while, and aim to get him to like us enough to send us to the surface."

She climbed aboard the shuttle to Entertainment 081, where they could access the docks. She sat in a seat and folded her hands. She didn't mention her moral reasons for aiding Habat. Her desire to help heal Telos, or her hope that he could help heal her connection to the Force. She had a feeling that the moral concerns wouldn't weigh too heavily with Kreia, and her teacher had already shown herself averse to Habat's offer to heal Darden.

"You've really thought it through," said Atton, sitting next to her, a little too close. Darden edged away, just a little. Kreia sat across from them with grace.

"Yes, you do seem to be looking at things as they are," Kreia conceded. "Continue to do so. Do not be distracted by the politics around you. They are irrelevant."

"It's just logic," Darden said.

The shuttle started moving.

When they got to Docking Bay Two, and the Ithorian manning the entrance had let them in, the droid intelligence had just arrived. There was only a single TSF man there beside the Ithorian escort. Both of them looked nervous.

"I'm glad you're here," the TSF man said. "I'm the only man the TSF could spare for this job, and frankly, I have a bad feeling about this whole business. Are you here to help with the escort?"

"Yeah," Darden told him. "Chodo Habat thought you might need a little—"the door to the bay opened, and five heavily armed and armored mercs walked in. "Yeah. There they are," she muttered.

"Get the droid," the leader said. "Kill the rest."

"Kreia," Darden said, "I don't really think we'll be able to help Czerka after this."

She drew her blaster and fired. Once, twice, three times. Two men went down, but a woman had run up to her. She was too close for Darden to fire at her—her vibroblade was swinging down. Darden reacted instinctively. She felt out with the Force, and froze the woman in place, then shoved her back.

It worked. The stunned woman tumbled back, and Atton shot her. The TSF officer had taken out the other two. The battle was over, but Darden just stood there.

"I—I—"Darden stammered, staring at the corpse of the woman on the ground.

But Kreia was smiling. "Yes. It comes back, does it not? Good, very good. Was that the first time you have manipulated the Force since we met on Peragus?"

"Yeah," Darden said slowly. "I've been feeling it more and more, but I haven't tried to use it. I can—I can use the Force again." She took in a breath, and the air was delicious. She suddenly didn't feel so small, so helpless, so alone, so angry.

"If you do that often, no one's going to believe you when you say you're not a Jedi, sweetheart," Atton said. He seemed a little shaken.

"They won't, will they?" Darden said, beginning to smile. "It'll probably 'cause me a hell of a lot of trouble." But she felt pleased, somehow, pleased that others might identify her as a Jedi again when she walked among them, even if technically she was still an exile. She turned to the TSF officer. He was stooped on the ground next to one of the blasters.

"This blaster," he told them. "Check it out." He handed it over.

Darden examined it. "Awful lot of modifications. Dangerous ones."

"Exactly," the TSF officer said grimly. "Many of them are illegal on Citadel Station. Something's not right here."

Darden nodded. "D'you want to take it back to Lieutenant Grenn?"

"He should probably take a look at it," the man agreed, "But you saved my butt by showing up. Do you want to take it by the Ithorian compound first? They ought to know what kind of people they're up against. Just be sure to bring it back by the TSF base when you're done."

Darden nodded. "Thanks. I'll do that." She shook the man's hand, and turned to the Ithorian and the droid. "We should probably get back to the compound now, before someone else shows up to kill us."

Chodo Habat received Darden and her companions gratefully and immediately put the droid to work. He turned to Darden. /I am gladdened by your safe return,/ he told her, /And I am grateful for your help in this matter. Please, accept this gift from my people./

He handed her a very nice pair of gloves, specially wired to be of use disarming mines and slicing computers. Darden smiled politely, though she was really very disappointed. She thrust the gloves in her pack. "The mercs at the dock. They were carrying Czerka weapons, but the weapons are weird. I thought you might want to take a look at it." She handed Chodo the blaster.

Chodo grew grim as he examined the blaster. /I am not familiar with these modifications. You should take this blaster to Lieutenant Grenn: he may be of more help./

"Yeah," Darden said. "That was the plan. I'm not exactly keen on the idea of the mercs being able to bully and kill people more effectively. Is there anything else I can do for you, Chodo?"

/With the blaster you have shown me and the report my herd member has brought from the docks, my fears have been confirmed,/ Chodo Habat said. /The gunmen were from the Exchange—Czerka has hired the crime syndicate to work against us. Long have I suspected that Czerka and the Exchange work together, the former supplying manufactured arms to be sold via the latter's black market channels. Now with the TSF keeping a closer eye on Czerka activities, the corporation has turned to the Exchange to be its fist on Citadel Station./

Darden looked over at Kreia and Atton. Kreia's mouth was tight. Atton's shoulders had set in both fear and determination. "Well," she said to them. "I'm suddenly very glad we didn't ally with them, after all. Aren't you?" She turned back to Habat. "We have to do something, sir. You can't fight them on both fronts." _And neither can I, _she added mentally.

/What you say is true,/ the Ithorian priest admitted, /But up until now we have had little success in dealing with the Exchange. I have tried to meet with the leader of the Exchange here, a Quarren named Loppak Slusk. He has refused my every invitation, and allows no one inside the Exchange suites. I fear he does not take us seriously. The Jedi, though, are renowned as warriors and diplomats both. Perhaps you might speak with Loppak, show him the value of a restored Telos./

Atton shifted and made a small noise. Darden looked at him and nodded, and turned back to Habat. "I'm not sure you know what you're asking me to do, Chodo," she said slowly. "The Jedi are renowned as warriors and diplomats, as you say, but I'm an exile. Even if Slusk deals with me as a Jedi, I'm not much better off. The Exchange has a massive bounty on Jedi. I've been attacked twice in the past week. To waltz right up to them—I'd be taking my life into my hands even speaking to the lowliest lackey."

Chodo Habat looked concerned. But Darden was thinking hard, and she raised a hand.

"Nevertheless," she said quietly. "I guess I'll have to deal with the Exchange sooner or later. Figure out what's up with the bounty. Best to do it here on Citadel, where the Exchange is still getting established." She tilted her head. "Who knows? Acting as your go-between might offer me some measure of protection. I'll do it."

Chodo Habat looked relieved. /Many thanks, Darden Leona,/ he said. /I am most grateful for your assistance. I will guide my thoughts towards your safety—and Loppak's, as well. I wish harm upon no one./

Darden frowned. She thought that Chodo Habat's attitude was unrealistically optimistic, but she didn't say so. She merely bowed and strode out.

Atton was talking almost before they left the compound. "Are you crazy? I mean—are you absolutely insane? You go within a hundred meters of the Exchange and they'll gun you down before you can blink! It's bad enough they're after you to begin with without going looking for them!"

"Yeah, I know," Darden replied. "And I made sure Habat knew that. He's uncomfortable asking me to do dangerous things to begin with. I'll let him stew on it a little—but I wasn't kidding, back there. Fighting on two fronts is never a good idea, and we're doing it already. The Sith and the Exchange. Now, I know the Sith aren't about to give up and back down. But the Exchange just might. And asking them here what they're about is a lot easier than asking on some other world."

"It's still crazy!" Atton insisted.

"You don't have to come if you don't want," Darden snapped. "My life is crazy right now."

"Hey, I didn't mean—"

"Just—"Darden said. "Head back to the apartment. Grab some supper. I need to think."

"Darden—"

"Do as she says," Kreia put in, looking sharply at Darden. "I will withdraw as well. But even if I am not physically present, I am available to aid you. When you have organized your thoughts, we will be waiting."

She nodded to Darden, and Darden felt a rush of gratitude to the old woman. She waved them off. Atton looked back at Darden, opened his mouth to protest, but then thought better of it and followed Kreia away.

Darden took the shuttle back to Entertainment 081 and headed towards the TSF office, desperate to sort something out, at least.

After showing him the blaster, Grenn was able to identify it as indicating the presence of a smuggling operation he'd long suspected operated on Citadel. His words brought to mind gossip Darden'd heard in the corridors about a Samhan Dobo that helped to run a shop by the cantina. Darden offered to check him out for the TSF.

The next few hours she filled with going back and forth between Dobo and the TSF, gaining Dobo's trust (he was in fact the smuggler), and collecting evidence beyond the blaster. Around ten Citadel Station time, Lieutenant Grenn was able to arrest Samhan Dobo. It made Darden feel better to know that at least that source of weaponry for Czerka and the Exchange was eradicated, but it didn't help clear up her immediate problem at all.

Darden wandered into the cantina, thinking hard. Despite herself, Darden was getting drawn into things again. It had started with reawakening to the Force on Peragus, and continued outward through there. Now she was gaining responsibilities and allies and enemies all as she felt the Force more strongly every minute. It was overwhelming and exhilarating at the same time. It seemed Darden was getting into more trouble every hour, but she was getting stronger, too. She felt more like a person than she had done for years, but things were moving so fast, so dangerously.

She went to the bar and ordered a drink, intending, not to get drunk, but at least to dull the edge of her thoughts a little before heading back to bed. But when she moved to pay the bartender, he shook his head. "It's covered. Luxa over there said she's got your bill tonight."

He indicated a scantily clad purple humanoid in the corner. The woman gave Darden a suggestive wink and crooked one finger at her.

"Who is she?" Darden asked.

"She's Exchange," the bartender said. "Loppak Slusk's best woman. Personally, I'd stay away from her."

Darden looked back over at this Luxa. She didn't have any intention of staying away from Luxa, now. On the contrary, she was very, very interested in this Exchange woman who wasn't shooting at her, but saw fit to buy her drinks instead. She grabbed her juice and strode over to Luxa.

"Hello there," Luxa said in a seductive purr. "You're Darden Leona, aren't you? You're the buzz of the station. I heard about what happened at the docks. Can we talk for a bit?"

"That's why you got my drink, isn't it?" Darden said, keeping her hand near her blaster. "You're Luxa. What do you want?"

Luxa grinned. "Oh, so forward. I like that. I handle vice—you know, spice, gambling, the good things in life—for the local Exchange boss Loppak Slusk."

"I know you're Exchange," Darden said. "Pardon me if that makes me a little suspicious of your motives."

Luxa held up her hands. "Don't worry, I won't make a move on you. That squid and I don't see eye to eye on a lot of things, you being one of them."

Darden took a sip of her juice and cocked an eyebrow. "What—so you don't support the bounty?"

Luxa cocked an eyebrow in return. Her eyes fell meaningfully over Darden's civilian clothes and blaster. "What—are you really Jedi?" she said, mocking Darden's intonation gently.

Darden blinked, then she started to grin. "You've got a brain, I'll give you that," she said. "I used to be a Jedi. Once upon a time, many, many years ago. Not anymore."

Luxa nodded in satisfaction. "Exactly," she said firmly. "This Exchange bounty has nothing to do with you—but Slusk, my boss, won't listen to me. Still, you seem a very capable sort. Tell me, are you a capable sort?" She let her voice dip down to a sultry whisper, and looked Darden up and down, letting her eyes linger like Atton did. Except Atton's wandering eyes always made Darden feel uncomfortable and exposed, and Luxa's just made her angry. She stepped back and put her drink down on the counter.

"Just tell me what you want," she said flatly.

"I think you're even tougher than you look," Luxa said. "Jedi or not. So here it is—help me with Loppak Slusk, and I'll keep the Exchange off your back—and find your missing ship."

"What's your problem with Slusk?"

Luxa sneered. "What, besides him being your typically slimy Quarren? Slusk works for Goto, out of Nar Shadaa. Now this Goto; he's rigid, ruthlessly efficient, and all he sees are numbers. Goto keeps the squid around because he maintains a steady flow of income, yet it's only half of what I know it could be. I should be Citadel's boss—but Goto doesn't allow breaks in the chain of command. I can't go over Loppak Slusk's head, so I've got to take care of him myself. And I want your help."

Darden tapped her foot on the floor. "How would this work, then?" she asked after a moment.

"I can get you into the Exchange suites in Residential 082," Luxa said. "They're west of the entrance. More than a few of the guards are in my pocket, so there shouldn't be too much resistance inside. When Slusk's out of the way, I'll clear up the bounty matter and get your ship back. Deal?"

Darden smiled a little. Luxa's offer seemed too good to be true. Which meant it probably was. Darden sensed that the woman was telling the truth and that she didn't believe Darden was a Jedi or the bounty applied to her, but Luxa had also as good as told her that the bounty came from this Goto. As Goto was on Nar Shadaa, Darden couldn't exactly take him out, and if Luxa broke his rules by having her boss murdered like she was proposing here, she'd probably want to appease him by, say, sending him a Jedi he was looking for that she'd just happened to trick into Exchange headquarters. Darden bet anything Luxa was planning a double-cross.

Still, Luxa would have to follow through on getting Darden in to the Exchange base and standing down the guards if she wanted Slusk dead, and she obviously did. And if Darden went in expecting a fight, she might get a chance to apply leverage to Luxa or Slusk or both and get them to lay off the Ithorians, if not off of her.

Darden didn't tell Luxa any of this. She just shrugged, as if it was no big deal. "Sure," she said, affecting a callous, bored tone. "I'll do it."

Luxa grinned predatorily. "We'll speak again, then," she said. "Best of luck, beautiful."

Darden gave her a small, ironic wave, and headed back to the apartment.

Atton and Kreia were both sitting up, though it was nearing midnight. She nodded to them. "We've got an in," she said.

"To the Exchange?" Atton said.

Darden nodded. "Yeah. The trouble with these massive unprincipled organizations is there's always some dissatisfied underling looking to climb the ranks." She shrugged. "One got in touch. She's standing down a lot of the guards. She promised to help us find the _Hawk_ and get the bounty taken care of if we help her kill her boss."

"You can't honestly think she's serious," Atton said.

"Not at all," Darden said. "But she will get us in. I think if we go in knowing it's a trap I can somehow play the two off one another—Loppak Slusk and Luxa. One way or the other we'll get someone to promise to leave Habat's people alone, and odds are we'll make it out."

"Really?" Atton asked.

"Maybe," Darden admitted. "You can stay back here, if you like, Atton."

"Yeah, and be the one the TSF calls tomorrow night to tell you were murdered 'cause you were one blaster short," he said. He groaned, broke away, paced in a circle, and returned. "You're lucky I still owe you one, Leona," he said.

She smiled wearily at him. "Thanks, Atton."

"Sure, sure," he said. "Just do me a favor—try, if you possibly can, to not get us into anymore life threatening situations while we're here?"

"I will do my absolute best," Darden promised him. "It's not like I enjoy them, either."

Kreia had been watching the conversation with interest. Now she interrupted. "This—bargain with the Exchange. It is not the only thing you accomplished in your absence."

"No," Darden admitted. "I also took down a smuggler."

Kreia nodded. "Walk with me," she commanded.

"Sure," Darden said, though she was very tired.

Kreia led the way out of the apartment. They began walking down the path Darden had taken with Atton the previous evening. By and by, Kreia spoke. "You are growing strong in the Force. Today you used it for the first time since your exile. I can feel it, even now, its touch upon you. Yet I fear you are allowing the higher mysteries to blind you to others. Turning away from that which tempts you is not strength. Facing it is. This night, when I touched your mind, I felt you aid the man Grenn and his TSF. You took no payment, no reward. It is not the first act of mercy you have displayed on our journey. Not the first act of charity. Why do you do this?"

Darden was silent for a long time. Then, quietly, she spoke. "There's enough suffering in the galaxy. I caused enough of it. Now—especially with things so chaotic, moving so quickly—I try to fix things. It helps me to organize my mind when I sort out wrongs, ease pain, and heal hurts."

"Ah, it aids you," Kreia said. "In this you are correct. Taking on the struggles of the weak gives you strength. But what of those you help? Would you rob them of the strength needed to grow? You speak of chaos. Your thoughts are much upon the trouble you have encountered since our first meeting. But has not this made you stronger, more capable?"

Darden was suddenly very uncomfortable. "I don't understand what it is with you and helping people," she said. "You have a problem with aiding the Ithorians, too."

"Habat has an agenda and he hopes to tie you into it, to use you to his own ends," Kreia said.

"And that's so different from everyone else we've met," Darden snapped. "At least it's a good agenda, Kreia. Look, there's something to be said for learning from struggle. I'll give you that. But that doesn't necessarily mean acts of mercy are harmful. That doesn't mean helping others is an unkindness, or wrong in some way. The misery and oppression of the weak serves no one."

"Pah! You have learned nothing," Kreia spat. "From such small acts, from such critical points, the universe and its masses may be moved. You must be careful in all that you do, and in every choice that you make. Aiding others gives you strength by taking on their challenges but weakens them. If that is your choice, then use their dependency, feed upon it, until you have exhausted them. Then leave them. And I would view the ones you travel with in much the same way."

Darden was suddenly cold all over. Kreia meant Atton, how he was still around, still wanted to help even though it went again his instinct for self-preservation. Kreia meant use and feed upon Atton's indebtedness to her, his incomprehensible attraction to her against what Darden thought was his own better judgment. Darden felt a rush of protectiveness towards Atton Rand, though she still wasn't sure she liked him much, and a renewal of her distrust of Kreia. "I will view _you_ as disposable," she said coldly, "If it pleases you."

Kreia smiled. "Ah, now you are learning. Do you know why those we meet display such weakness?" she asked. "As I said, their lives are static, untested. It is only through interaction, through decision and choice, through confrontation, physical or mental, that the Force can grow within you. You have seen it. You have felt it within you as you have traveled with me. The growing anger, the rage, and the power it brings. Yet the power does not build without such struggle. Through smaller cruelties, greater ones are born."

Darden wasn't actually half as angry as she had been five days ago, but it worried her that Kreia thought she was, that she was pleased by it. She hesitated, then decided to ask. "You're not a Jedi, are you? Are you a Sith?"

Kreia had been walking rather close to Darden. Now, she drew away. "Does it matter?" she asked bitterly. "Of course it does. Such titles allow you to break the galaxy into Light and Dark, categorize it. Perhaps I am neither, and I hold both as what they are, pieces of a whole. Know that I am your teacher, and that is enough."

Darden was silent a moment. "Before you were my teacher. What were you, then?"

Kreia shrugged. "What do you wish to hear?" she said in a harsh, mocking voice. "That I once believed in the Code of the Jedi? That I felt the call of the Sith, that perhaps, once, I held the galaxy at its throat? That for every good work I did, I brought equal harm upon the galaxy? That perhaps what the greatest Sith Lords knew of evil, they learned from me? What would it matter now?" she said, quietly now, though she had been speaking in a loud, ringing voice. "There is only so much comfort in knowing such things, and it is not who I am now."

Darden's blood was ice in her veins. "Tell me," she said, very, very quietly.

Kreia did. Very vaguely. She mentioned no names, no places, no times. She _had_ been Sith, it seemed, though she never explicitly stated so. She mentioned walking in Dark, unknown places. First alone, and then with others. She spoke of alliances made in hatred. They had been broken. For whatever reason, she had been cast out. Much of her power had been lost.

As they turned back to the apartment, near one in the morning, Kreia finished. "Learn from me, my mistakes, and use that knowledge to become greater than I. That is all I ask of you, and that is all I desire."

She would say no more, and when they got back to the apartment where Atton Rand was already sleeping blissfully ignorant of what had passed between them, Darden was left to a restless night, where she contemplated being bonded to and under the instruction of a woman who, for all she knew, still held the convictions and maintained the brilliance of a powerful Sith Lord, though her power had been broken. She tossed and turned and stared at the ceiling tiles for hours, but finally, two or three hours later, Darden had fallen asleep.

* * *

**A/N: I like this chapter. Do you?**

**Coming Soon: Darden finds that a moment's decision may have lasting consequences for the new Telos, and for herself. In a few deft maneuvers, Darden changes the whole power scape of a planet. But Darden is not nearly so affected by the earthshaking changes on Telos as she is when her past shows up to haunt her in the form of an old underling from the Wars…**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp**


	9. Tempest on Telos

**Disclaimer: Yadda yadda yadda. You know the drill. I don't get paid, credit goes to the game makers.**

* * *

VIII.

Tempest on Telos

Breakfast was quiet and tense the next morning. Darden was still nervous about Kreia, and more nervous about confronting the Exchange. She tried not to show her apprehension in front of Atton, who was more than apprehensive enough for all three of them. He bolted down his food much too quickly, then went over to his corner and started arming up, more heavily than he'd done before.

Darden blinked. The armored shirt, the vibrosword were ones she hadn't seen. "Where'd you get that?" she said. He shrugged. "You slept in. I went to the store in Entertainment and got some stuff. For you and the old lady, too." He gestured to the vibrosword, and Darden realized it was in fact the vibrosword Kreia had picked up —but had been modified since yesterday night. Atton himself was shrugging into the armored shirt, but he tossed something over at Darden when he had. She caught it.

He'd gotten her a set of armor, light, manageable, flexible, but it would offer protection nonetheless. Darden recognized quality in the stitching of the fabric over the plates, and in the workmanship of the mesh. It was her size, and—it had to have been expensive.

"Atton—"

"They were your credits," he said, cutting her off. "You have to have something better than that mining uniform or that—_whatever _that was you took from your room on the _Harbinger_—with all the people after you and your sort of insanity that makes you want to go and _meet _them. That Dobo guy gave me a good deal when I told him it was for you. Apparently he's grateful you got his no-good brother locked away or something."

Darden looked at him. "You didn't sleep last night, either."

He shrugged and turned away. "Well, thanks," she said. "It was a good choice."

Darden went to the fresher and dressed in the armor. Again, she was impressed Atton had gotten her size, though also unnerved that he'd been paying that close attention to her. Still, it was good stuff. Jal Shey make, and they were Force Sensitives, by and large. She could still feel the Force and manipulate it in the armor. Atton couldn't have known that most armor cut the wearer off from the Force to some extent and that this wouldn't, so Darden considered herself lucky in that respect. She _did _give him credit for the modesty of the suit, though. She would have imagined that Atton Rand would pick out the sluttiest protection in the shop. He'd surprised her, both by making the purchase at all and by the thought that had gone into it. She decided not to inquire how much the armor had cost her as she washed her face and pushed back her hair. Or to snap at him over swiping the credits, with which he had probably bought that shirt for himself, too. She figured it was probably worth it.

She came out and felt Kreia's sightless eyes upon her. The old woman's focus moved to Atton, then back again. Darden felt Kreia press again upon her mind the significance of the advice she had given her the night before. Darden gave her an enormous mental 'push' and had a wall up before a second had passed. Kreia started. Darden took a deep breath and focused all her concentration upon thinking of the Exchange. Keeping the wall up with Kreia poking at it was taking connection to the Force and discipline Darden didn't have yet. After a second, sweating, she let it fall, and Kreia was there at the back of her head again, her mind full of questions, and annoyance. But Darden had been able to block her long enough to get her own anger and distrust under control.

"We should go," she said, picking up her blaster and holstering it grimly.

The Exchange headquarters weren't far. In fact, Darden had passed them several times already on her way to different parts of Citadel, or just walking. This time, though, instead of circling them broadly, trying to keep the plant beds and other passersby between her and the entrance, Darden walked right up to the guard.

"Luxa sent us," she said.

The Rodian on guard twitched his antennae. /I hope you know what you're doing, human,/ he said doubtfully, opening the door nonetheless.

Darden squared her shoulders and held her head high and walked right in to the most dangerous place on Citadel for her.

Luxa had made good on her word. The guards Darden encountered on her way through the Exchange headquarters saw her, then looked the other way pointedly. Darden, Kreia, and Atton encountered no resistance until they had reached the back of the suites and encountered Loppak Slusk himself.

The Quarren recognized Darden on sight. Of course he did. It was his job to know everything that went down on Citadel Station, and definitely to have a physical ID on the current bounties. /You've got a lot of nerve coming here, Jedi,/ he croaked, tentacles waving in amusement. /With the bounty we've got on your kind. What do you want?/

"Well for one, to clear _that_ up," Darden said. "Hello—Slusk, isn't it? Name's Darden Leona. Don't think we've actually met—can't say it's a pleasure. But you see, the thing is, I'm not actually a Jedi. Exiled, see."

She spoke breezily to hide her discomfort. Her eyes darted around the room. There were at least seven or eight other people in here besides Loppak Slusk, and she wasn't at all sure that all of them were in Luxa's pocket.

/Good,/ the Quarren snapped, obviously annoyed by her levity. /It'll be that much easier to kill you. You're marked, human. Whether you're actually Jedi or not means nothing to me./

Darden took a quick breath. "Fine, but before you start having your goons shoot at me, don't you want to know why I was stupid enough to come?" She let the silence take hold for one, two, three seconds, then said. "I came on behalf of the Ithorians," she said. "I mean, you're here because you want to be established on Telos, right? Well if there's not a Telos to be—"

But Loppak Slusk had cut over her. /I gave very specific instructions regarding that hammerhead and any of his cronies!/ he was yelling. /Who let this idiot woman in? Matu, bring me whoever's working the door. Nahata, tell Chodo if he sends anyone else we'll come after him. And Benok-/ this last to a tall, dark-skinned male with a cruel smile. /-dust this foolish Jedi./

Loppak Slusk swept out of the room towards an area even further back. And Benok brought up his frankly frighteningly large repeating blaster rifle with a grin. Darden ducked, rolled, came up and shot him dead between the eyes. Two men flew back into walls courtesy of Kreia and Atton gunned them down. Darden ducked the blade of a woman and brought up her left hand to break her nose while her guard was down. She shot her through the head for good measure. Atton was at her back, then, facing off with two of the remaining ones. He shot one in the knee, then through the hand, and when she dropped her gun he made the kill shot. Darden elbowed the man in the face that was coming up on her left, and Kreia ran him through. The other two looked at the corpses on the floor, looked again at Darden and her companions, and made for the door. Kreia lifted her hand, and Atton made to shoot, but Darden grabbed Atton's arm. He went still and then tense into a form that seemed strangely familiar, but Darden didn't have time to think about it, because Kreia was holding up her hand, too. Darden said, "Don't."

"They'll go get help and come back with more," Atton said.

"No," Darden said. "They'll get as far from here as they can and never go after anyone rumored to be a Jedi again." She snorted. "Cowards. Come on."

At the very back of the base there was a room guarded by three Gamorreans. Darden recognized one of them. He had been in the cantina last night, not far away from Luxa. She nodded at him, and then at the door.

He hollered in to Slusk that Matu had arrived with the doorkeeper, and fled.

The door to Loppak Slusk's office opened, and when he saw them, his tentacles began twitching ferociously. /What? Whoever let you back here better be dead, or they'll be wishing they were when my droids are through with you./

He motioned to two bodyguard droids that had been waiting on either side of the entrance to his office. Darden sighed. She reached out with the Force, felt the buzzing energy that was the droids, and crushed it. There was an electrical buzzing, and then the droids fell on the floor, disabled.

She raised her blaster pistol and aimed it at Slusk's left eye. He held up his hands and his beak clacked two or three times before he could speak intelligently. /You've handled yourself well getting this far,/ he said, much too fast. /But you should think things over carefully. I can be a very valuable ally. Just what is it you want? To join the Exchange? Money?/

"Asks the weasel in the weasel trap," said Darden, without lowering her blaster. "I don't want anything for myself that I think you here on Telos have the power to grant me. I was telling the truth, before. I'm here on behalf of the Ithorians. Leave them alone, Slusk. After I leave here you can expend whatever resources you've still got left chasing me to your heart's content. But leave them alone."

Slusk's beak clacked again, and a thicker coating of mucus than usual had oozed up onto his skin. /Really?/ he said, somewhat incredulously. /All this trouble, just for that?/ Just then, though, the door opened. /Ah. It seems we have some visitors. I was wondering when you'd show up, Luxa./

Luxa had walked in with a stony expression that held none of last night's mischief. A trio of Gamorrean guards were behind her. "Slusk."

Slusk gestured to Darden and her companions. /I assume this was all your doing?/

Luxa shrugged. "I may have had a hand in it, yes," she said casually.

/I suppose I should have known. You always were an ambitious one. Enough with that, though./ He looked around the room. /On to the business at hand. I don't think it's possible that all of us will be leaving this room alive./

Darden swallowed. "Look. I want to find my ship," she said. "And I want you people to stop interfering in the Ithorian Restoration efforts. Slusk wants to make it out of this alive, and Luxa here wants more authority on Citadel. I'm sure we can all talk this over and come to an agreement that suits everyone."

Slusk shook his head. /Only if that agreement involves Luxa's termination./

Darden looked from Luxa to Slusk, and decided to take a chance. "Of the two of you," she said slowly, "You have tried to kill me at least twice, and she hasn't tried to kill or capture me at all. I don't think I want to deal with you."

/I see,/ Slusk said. /That'll be the last mistake you ever make./

He pressed a button behind his desk, and two turrets in front of it went active. But they were just turrets, and he couldn't run, after all. Darden shot out his blue, bulbous eye and the bolt went into his brain. Loppak Slusk hit the floor, dead, and Kreia had taken out the turrets.

Luxa walked around the desk and kicked the Quarren's body contemptuously. "Well. That's wrapped up. I've got to thank you for your help." But she didn't lay down her weapon, and the Gamorrean guards were closing in.

It was okay, though. Darden hadn't released her grip on her blaster, either. "Look," she said. "I know you probably don't have the authority to really call off the bounty. And I don't care about you helping me find my ship. I don't want to owe the Exchange. I can find it some other way. But I want to be able to at least walk out of here alive today, and I want the Exchange to stop interfering with the Ithorian restoration efforts. You can do that much for me, Luxa."

Luxa smiled pityingly and clicked her tongue. "It's a shame I have to turn you down after you ask so nicely," she said. "But no."

"Right. Increasing the profit to make up breaking the rules to Goto," Darden said. "Then let me put it like this. You came in after the big fighting had been done. You saw what we did to your people here. I don't want to have to stop this no-killing, no-capturing thing we've got going."

Luxa shrugged. "Slusk's dead, but Goto's still my boss. I'm shipping you to Nar Shadaa, 'Jedi', dead or alive. If you don't want to defend yourself, that's your choice."

Darden nodded. Then she raised her blaster and shot Luxa three times before the woman could even raise her melee weapon. She ducked a Gamorrean axe and danced back away behind the desk to avoid getting trapped in close quarters with opponents so much bigger and stronger than she was. From there she shot one, but Kreia had already cut another's feet from under him while Atton had shot the third.

Darden looked at the blood on the floor. Quite a lot of it had gotten on Kreia's robe. Vibroblades weren't neat like blasters and lightsabers. "I thought that might be how this went," she said quietly. "Well. At least the Exchange'll leave me alone on Telos. And the Ithorians."

"What we have done here today will have enormous implications for this world," Kreia said. "What will Telos become with the Exchange thrown into disarray?"

"Better," Darden said. "At least for a while."

"You're in trouble, though," Atton said, looking around at all the bodies. "Good grief. Maybe Nar Shadaa isn't such a good idea after all."

"Just 'cause the bounty's from there?" Darden said, making her way over to the terminal on the wall. She'd seen an Ithorian in restraints earlier, passing through headquarters. She accessed the terminal and ordered his force cage disabled and stepped away.

Atton shook his head, still in shock. "The Exchange is one of the most powerful groups on the Smuggler's Moon. If this Goto wants you so badly, it'd probably be a good idea not to show up on his doorstep, wouldn't you say? Not to mention I'm sure this Loppak Slusk has friends on Nar Shadaa that won't be happy to hear he's gone," he added with a nod towards the Quarren's corpse.

Darden was going through the drawers of Slusk's desk, grabbing credits and stuffing them in her pack. "I never planned to go to Nar Shadaa in the first place, Atton. But let's get out of here before someone comes to see what happened. And get your clothes washed," she added to Kreia.

"Yeah, you're right," Atton said. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

It took some doing to get back to the apartment while keeping Kreia hidden from overly curious eyes. But they managed it, and she dressed in Darden's gray robes while Darden let her brown ones soak in the sink. Then she, Darden, and Atton just sat on the end of their bunks, staring at one another.

"So," Atton said by and by. "That's pretty much a complete failure on the low-profile front."

"I'm a Jedi, haven't you heard? The last one in the galaxy. There's no way to do that low-profile," Darden said.

"We have stayed overlong on Telos," Kreia said. "It is unfortunate that there was no way to peacefully resolve things with the Exchange. It has only made our situation more desperate."

"Yeah, well," Darden said. "If you want to go with me to wrap things up with Habat-?"

Kreia sniffed. "I will remain," she said, "And try to purify my mind and meditate on the whereabouts and intentions of our enemies."

Atton looked at Kreia and his mouth quirked. "I'll come," he said.

He left with Darden. "What she really means is she doesn't want to be seen without her oh-so-mysterious Jedi robe and cloak," he said as they left.

Darden laughed. "You might be right," she agreed. "But she doesn't like the Ithorians, either."

They fell into silence. Eventually Atton said, "Back there—that was some—I mean, I knew you could fight. Against that assassin, and you got through all those droids on Peragus, but—"

Darden was silent.

"You went in there knowing we'd have to take them all out."

He sounded impressed and disapproving, contradictory feelings, but in him they fit. Darden answered, "You handled it well. In the main firefight—with Slusk's henchmen—when I grabbed your arm…"

Atton didn't look at her, but his lips had gone thin.

"Never mind," Darden said. "It was probably nothing." She nodded. "Yeah. I thought we probably would have to take them all out. I knew the bounty came from Nar Shadaa going in, and that neither Slusk nor Luxa really had any authority to call it off, or inclination to leave our allies alone and abandon a profitable alliance. Then I thought Telos is probably better off without an early Exchange influence, anyway."

"That's kind of—"Atton began. "We killed them all."

"Not the two that ran," Darden said. "Not the doorkeeper, or a lot of the guards." She shrugged.

He looked at her.

"What?"

"Nothing, just I hadn't pegged you as the ruthless sort, what with all the save the Telosian trees stuff we've been doing."

Darden laughed mirthlessly. "You don't know me," she said. She closed her eyes, and Malachor flashed through her mind again.

Then they were at the Ithorian compound. Chodo Habat bowed to her, and she bowed back. /You have returned!/ he said. /Did your meeting with Loppak Slusk go well?/

Darden smiled bleakly. "There's successful meetings and then there's getting the job done, Chodo. You won't have any more trouble with the Exchange here on Citadel. Me? If and when I get off Station, I'll probably have a lot more."

Chodo blinked at her, and his head drooped a little on his long neck. /I sense that your meeting did not go peacefully. It saddens me greatly that blood was shed. It was not my intention to cause harm./

Darden shrugged. "It was their intention to cause harm."

Chodo Habat shifted his weight, but then he nodded to Moza. /I am again in your debt,/ the priest said. /Until we find a more fitting way to commend you, please accept this humble gift. It came from a lightsaber that belonged to a Jedi once of my herd./

Moza gave Darden the gift—a lightsaber energy cell fixture. It was simple, unadorned, but it was in good condition. Darden could build upon it, carry a lightsaber once again. She took in a shallow breath. "Thank—thank you," she stammered. "This might prove—useful." She nodded once, twice. "What remains to be done?"

Habat bowed. /For the Restoration Project to continue in earnest,/ he said, /the Telosian government must be made to see the cancer that Czerka has become. Their security division is merely an army of badge-bearing thugs. They supply weapons to the local black market. They steal Restoration Zones and land illegal salvage teams on Telos./

Darden recovered herself from the gratitude she felt at being presented with the lightsaber fixture to make a small, dissenting noise. Chodo looked at her. She cleared her throat. "I'll grant you the first two," she said. "Not the last. Their hold over their Restoration Zones is perfectly legal, if objectionable. What they're doing with them, though, certainly isn't helping to heal the planet's surface."

Chodo bobbed his head. /What you say is correct. Czerka has imbedded itself within the government, using Telos' own laws to protect itself from censure or investigation. Legally the Telosians can do nothing. If you can bring Czerka's corruption to light, perhaps the Republic could intervene and cast them out. This is what I would ask of you./

Darden recognized a final task when she heard it. But she also recognized and understood the words _Legally the Telosians can do nothing. _So did Atton. Instead of looking apprehensive, though, he started looking thoughtful, and a little excited. Darden decided he had definitely lived on the wrong side of the law before they'd met. She filed it away for future reference, and addressed Habat. "If I get caught I go back to jail," she said. "But if I succeed you're home free, aren't you?" she nodded. "Okay. Since we're altering the entire planetary landscape, might as well go all out. How would I go about digging up dirt on Czerka? They've been careful. We know they're dirty, but I doubt there'd be any evidence the TSF or the planetary council could convict them on."

Chodo Habat leaned forward. /The Czerka offices in Residential 082 contain a secure mainframe,/ he told her. /It is a closed system, inaccessible from the outside./

"But all their business is on it, even the questionable bits," Darden said, following. "But if it's a closed system I can't slice it for you. So what do I do?"

/We have skilled technicians among us,/ Chodo said, /But they cannot access the system. I am certain this mainframe contains files that would expose Czerka's corruption. It is only a matter of obtaining them and passing them on to the Telosian authorities./

Again with the unwarranted optimism, Darden thought. She shook her head. "_Only_. Chodo, I've pretty much made sure that Czerka hates my guts right now. I wouldn't be surprised if Lorso's told her mercs to shoot me on sight if they can get away with it, actually. Or—at least, that's how she'll be feeling by day's end. How do you propose we get around that?"

/There is an employee of Czerka who may be willing to assist us in our cause,/ Chodo Habat said. /Corrun Falt, Jana Lorso's second-in-command. Our sources tell us he is dissatisfied with Lorso, and uncomfortable with her unethical policies. He spends his free time in the cantina in the Entertainment module. More than that I do not know./

He blinked, and shifted uncomfortably. /We seek a solution that sees no one harmed,/ he said, firmly. /But…we have found none,/ he added reluctantly. /I am confident that a Jedi could find a way to make things right, but…?/

Darden shrugged. "I'll come up with something, sure. Should be an interesting challenge." She cleared her throat. "Er—I might have to bribe Falt. Unless he's an idiot, he'll be able to see that it might not just be Lorso that goes down if he gives me what I want."

Chodo Habat blinked, then bobbed his head. He told Moza to get money, and gave Darden five hundred credits of bribe money. It was more than she thought she'd need, but Darden resolved to give the money back if she didn't require it.

Atton bumped Darden's arm with his elbow. Low enough that Chodo wouldn't hear, he muttered, "Smooth."

Darden glared at him, and bowed. "Thanks, Chodo."

/I'm sorry there is not more that I can do,/ he said. /But I hope for your success./

Darden nodded, and turned, and left.

"Why didn't you ask him about a shuttle to the surface?" Atton asked.

"Because he wouldn't let us go until we'd taken care of this, anyway," Darden said. "It's pretty cut and dried, Atton. Czerka and the Ithorians can't both get what they want for Telos, so they can't coexist. One or the other of them has to go down, and yesterday I got to decide which one. By fourteen hundred hours, Station time, there wasn't any going back, and now I've got to do this last bit both to get out of here and in the simple interest of self-preservation."

"I get that," Atton said. "Still, lot of responsibility. Doesn't it make you want to run? You know, leave it all behind. Go somewhere no one knows your name?"

Darden laughed. "I did that for ten years. Then the galaxy decided without me that I was the last Jedi in it, and now I deal. Actually, I'm rather enjoying myself." She had put the lightsaber fixture in her pocket, and now she drew it out, and turned it over in her hand.

Kreia was waiting, in her own brown robe again and hooded as usual when they returned. "What has happened? Where does our path now lead?"

"The cantina, if you want to come," Darden told her. "No—Kreia, don't look like that. It's business. I'm not going on a midday drinking binge when we need to focus on getting off Station."

"Very well. I shall accompany you."

"What, ready to leave the room now you've got your hood back, Kreia?" Atton jibed. "Yeah, I understand. If I had your face, I wouldn't want people to see it either."

Kreia ignored him. Darden glared.

It was pretty easy to find Corrun Falt. He was sitting in the center of the cantina on one of the lounge chairs sipping his drink in his Czerka uniform for all to see. He was a well-groomed, dark-haired man about Darden's age, but with cold eyes. Nevertheless, while Kreia loomed in the background and Atton went to go play pazaak with the Twi'lek at the table, Darden sat down across from him.

He looked up in surprise. "Is there something I can do for you?" he asked, taking in Darden's armor and blaster. She blinked. She hadn't bargained on Corrun Falt not knowing who she was. She smiled, though, pleased that he didn't. Aside from the decided advantage it gave her, it just proved that Chodo Habat's information was correct. Lorso and Falt didn't get on.

"Yes, actually," she said. "I was told by a reliable source that you might be able to help me get some information on the corporation." She nodded at his uniform and sat back in her chair, waiting.

"What?" Falt said, eyes narrowing. "What do you mean?"

Darden shrugged. "You're Corrun Falt, right? Second-in-command at the Czerka Citadel Branch. Not too fond of your boss. Well, there are some files I'd like to get my hands on," she said, dropping her voice. "Files I imagine wouldn't make Jana Lorso look too good to the public."

Corrun Falt's mouth opened. He looked around. "Wait," he said, keeping his voice low, too. "Are you talking about accessing the mainframe? The Czerka mainframe? You're crazy! Who are you, some kind of slicer?"

Darden looked him steadily in the eye. "Who and what I am is no concern of yours. It's better for you if you don't know, actually. All you need to know is that I'm looking for some dirt, and I think you wouldn't object too strenuously to showing me where to find it."

Falt sat back hard. "Well," he said. "I'm sure there are a dozen sorts of dirt on Lorso in the mainframe. But it's a closed system."

Darden waved her hand. "There is _always_ a way in," she said. "What's mine?"

Corrun Falt was staring at her. "This is a joke, isn't it? You're CSD, right? Loyalty test?"

"Not at all," Darden said. "Complete outsider. Off-worlder, out of company, but our goals are compatible. I want dirt on Lorso, and—"

Corrun Falt had started looking thoughtful now, like a man that sees a means to an end he's been looking for for a long time. He snorted, though. "And I want Jana Lorso looking dirty. Right. Right." He leaned forward. "Look, this a risky proposition. I'd be sticking my neck out. Way out."

Darden shrugged. "Yeah, well, nobody likes a boss that's as compromised as she is. If she's dirty, best to get it out in the air so someone decent can take over." She put the lightest emphasis on the last five words.

That decided him. Corrun Falt wasn't quite a Luxa, but he was still a dissatisfied underling waiting for his big break. They were all the same. "Yeah, yeah," he said, looking hard at the table. "You're right. 500 credits and I'll find you a way in. No negotiating. Take it or leave it."

Darden leaned back. "How about 300?" she said reasonably.

"Didn't I say no—" Falt started, but the idea had got into his head now. Czerka without Jana Lorso, with himself in charge. "Oh, forget it," he said. "300 it is."

Darden took 300 of the credits Chodo Habat had given her and handed them over without demur. She'd be able to give Habat 200 change.

Corrun Falt leaned forward and dropped his voice still lower. "All right. Other than Jana Lorso, only B-4D4 has free access to the mainframe," he told her. "He's a protocol droid. Her administrative assistant. If you controlled B-4D4, you could walk right in."

Darden grinned, liking the idea. "Or he could walk right in," she said. She wouldn't even have to enter the office. "How do I get to him, though? I'd need to reprogram him."

"Nearly all the Czerka technicians are planet-side these days," Falt told her. "Working the Restoration Zones we've taken from the Ithorians. We've contracted out the maintenance for the office's protocol and utility droids. The guy, Chano, lives in the apartments in Residential 082. Unit 2B, I think. If you had his credentials, B-4D4 would leave with you willingly."

Darden stood up. "Then he could get the files and walk right out, no blood shed. Thanks, Corrun."

Corrun Falt suddenly frowned, realizing he might have made a mistake in a fit of ambition and pique. "Wait—who are you?" he called.

But Darden had gone.

Obtaining the credentials was easy, though expensive. Chano didn't care for Czerka, and he was sympathetic to the Ithorian initiative. However, he was fearful for his job and he owed money to the Exchange. Off-world, so Darden couldn't just tell him he could forget about it and the Exchange was history. Despite Kreia's scowls, because she didn't like to leave anyone to the Exchange, she had the credits on hand (ironically enough, because she'd lifted them from the Exchange offices that morning), and because she needed the credentials, Darden paid his debt. She told him he wasn't obligated to repay her and made him swear instead not to take out money from the Exchange again. She didn't know, as she departed from the Exchange office with the credentials, whether or not Chano would keep his promise, but she thought he'd try, at least for a while. No one liked being in debt to the Exchange.

She was able to slip into the Czerka offices just before closing and slip out with B-4D4. Darden hoped that in the confusion of quitting time, and given all the trouble she'd stirred up for the company that day, no one would notice the protocol droid's absence until the next morning, when he would be back, but reprogrammed.

She took B-4D4 to the Ithorians. Chodo realized at once what the plan was. He clapped his hands together in delight. /Ah, this is Czerka's protocol droid!/ he cried. /A most clever tactic. I'll have a droid technician reprogram it to return to their offices and access the mainframe for us./

Darden bowed. "You do that. You know where to find me when it's done. Good luck. Oh—"she reached into her pack and drew out Chodo's change. "I was able to bribe the official with less than we thought. Here's your money. Put it back into the Restoration Effort."

* * *

800 HOURS, THE NEXT MORNING, ITHORIAN COMPOUND

The Ithorian leader looked B-4D4 over. /Everything appears to be in working order,/ he said. /Do you understand the task that has been set before you? You are to enter the Czerka offices, access the mainframe, download those files which clearly indicate the extent of Czerka's corruption, and then return them here. Your programming still will not allow you to harm sentient beings, but we have allowed you the capability to lie to accomplish your mission./

B-4D4's motivators quivered. This could be rather enjoyable, he thought. He had always felt a sense of shame at being employed by Czerka. Mistress Lorso's policies were efficient, but they were also undeniably unethical, amounting even to brutality. His programming had always been uneasy about doing her bidding. He had only been grateful that his tasks had not aided in her more unsavory business dealings, and for memory wipes. "I do not understand," he said, immediately shocked by his own statement.

/You do not?/ Habat asked, /What do you not understand?/

"I was merely testing my ability to lie."

The Ithorian priest blinked. /Ah…I see. If you are caught, we have provided you with the means to wipe your own memory. You must not reveal that we have sent you./

"I will return when I have obtained the files," the droid promised.

He made his way back to the office. It was fifteen past 800 hours when he arrived. Late, but not so late that his tardiness would cause alarm in the employees. He made his way to the back where Mistress Lorso's office adjoined the mainframe.

"Hello B-4D4," Mistress Lorso greeted him cordially. "Is there something you need?"

"There are some files that I must access in the mainframe, Mistress Lorso," he told her, completely truthfully.

She was not unduly alarmed, just curious. "Oh? Why is that?"

"There are some discrepancies with our reported income for the last period," B-4D4 lied, choosing the lie he thought would set her mind most at ease. "I believe you brought in more credits than reported."

"More credits, you say?" she said. Her speaking mechanism turned up at the corners with pleasure. "That's news I wouldn't mind reporting to the Sector Executive Officer. Please, B-4D4, access away."

"Thank you, Mistress Lorso, I will," B-4D4 said. He went back to the mainframe, but was stopped by the mainframe utility droid, T1-N1. T1-N1 had always had a tendency to erratic, dysfunctional behavior, due to his continual communion with the mainframe. But he had had a recent memory wipe, so he tried to stop B-4D4 from approaching the mainframe terminal, claiming he, B-4D4, looked suspicious. For a moment B-4D4 ran possible scenarios through his processor. Then he spoke.

"You are programmed to serve Mistress Lorso, correct?" he said.

The droid beeped affirmation.

"And your programming similarly inhibits you from harming sentient organic life, or allowing such to be harmed without warning, correct?"

T1-N1 beeped again.

"Examine the files in the mainframe," the protocol droid told him. "You will see that, by aiding Mistress Lorso, you have allowed sentient organic life to be harmed."

T1-N1 did access the mainframe. He immediately began whirring, his gears clunking and his lights flashing.

"Yes," B-4D4 told him ruthlessly. "You have been programmed to accomplish a task that cannot be accomplished without defying your programming. This is why Opo Chano regularly wipes your memory: to prevent you from realizing this and developing quirks or going berserk as a result."

T1-N1 buzzed with righteous indignation, then whistled a query.

"You have already broken your behavioral inhibitors. You simply have not become aware of it. You may act in whatever manner you choose."

T1-N1's casing parted and his stun ray emerged, then retreated back in question. He whistled again. "No. There is nothing preventing you from entering the main office and indiscriminately firing on Czerka personnel with your stun ray," B-4D4 told him kindly.

T1-N1 rolled backward doubtfully and beeped. "Yes," B-4D4 conceded. "I would be obligated to warn them. As such, it would not be prudent to do so unless I was preoccupied and unable to warn them."

T1-N1 rolled still farther, back, away from the mainframe and beeped again.

"Yes," B-4D4 agreed. "For example, while downloading the contents of this mainframe."

T1-N1 turned his sensors away from B-4D4 and rolled towards the exit. B-4D4 waved him out. "Farewell, T1-N1," he said. "Please do not abuse my trust and fire on the personnel while I am occupied, thereby creating a diversion that allows me to escape with stolen files."

He had been right. This was quite enjoyable. As screams and shouted questions emanated from Czerka headquarters behind him, B-4D4 accessed the mainframe. Before downloading the files that the Jedi Darden Leona had brought him to the Ithorians to be programmed to steal, B-4D4 deleted all records in the Czerka system of his purchase by and service to the company.

* * *

1100 HOURS, DOCK MODULE 126

Atton and Kreia were loafing around Bay Two until Darden sent word over the com-link to go through to the Ithorians' shuttle bay. When Habat had contacted her at 1000 hours that it was all done, that they had obtained the files they needed and he'd like her to come in, Darden had told the pair of them to get everything together they would need to hightail it off-station. She'd promised that if Habat didn't offer use of the shuttle, she'd press for it this time. She didn't think, if she reminded him of all she had done and all she had risked over the past three days, he would refuse her.

Atton was just as satisfied that they were leaving Citadel. The _Sojourn_ would be arriving any time now, maybe later today, even, and once they'd arrived there'd be no telling when Darden could get away. Maybe she wouldn't be able to. He'd gotten mixed up in the Exchange since he'd met her; the Sith were on their tail. He definitely didn't want to get involved with the Republic. He actually thought it might be a good idea to bail, once they'd located the _Ebon Hawk_. He thought Darden would let him fly her and the hag to some out of the way nowhere planet that nonetheless had a big enough port where they could pick up some other pilot. Maybe Tatooine.

He hadn't signed up for this, all these life and death situations. Taking eight Exchange thugs on at once. Standing by while Darden Leona coldly made decisions that would change a planet like she'd done it a million times before. Putting up with the hag's insults.

Still, he thought. It was a shame. She was something. Not what he'd thought. Well, she was still crazy, but she was a lot tougher than he'd given her credit for those first few days. He'd give a lot to know who she'd been ten years ago, how she'd gotten herself exiled and what had made her the way she was. A lot, but not enough that he wanted to stick around and go down when she inevitably did. It was a shame, too, that he'd never get to—he indulged in one more dirty little fantasy. A few feet away, Kreia tensed up. Atton felt a rush of anger. Jedi—never could keep out of a person's head. He 'broadcast' the fantasy a little more loudly.

The com-link buzzed and he clicked it. Darden came on-screen, panting. "I'm—on my way," she said. "We've got access—I—"

Blood was trickling down her forehead from what looked like a vibroblade slice. Immediately all Atton's thoughts about leaving spaced themselves. "You're hurt! What happened?"

She shook her head. "Head wounds always bleed a lot," she managed, keeping her voice steady this time. "It looks worse than it is. I'm fine. I'll be there in less than half an hour. Just be in the shuttle and ready to fly."

"What happened?" Atton pressed.

"Tell you later—signing off." The screen went dark. Atton swore, and started towards the shuttle car that'd take him to Entertainment and then to Residential 082.

Kreia grabbed him with a gnarled old claw. "Do as she says," she ordered. "Darden is stronger than she appears and she will not thank you for your aid when what is needed is a swift departure."

Atton swore again and jerked away. But he turned towards Bay Two. "We're with Darden Leona," he told the Ithorian. "Your boss said we could use your shuttle."

/Yes, Chodo Habat has notified me,/ the Ithorian said. /Please, proceed./

* * *

AN HOUR AND A HALF PREVIOUSLY, THE ITHORIAN COMPOUND

Darden walked into the Ithorian compound. She'd received word at 900 hours this morning from the TSF that the _Sojourn_ had finished its investigation of the Peragus incident, coming to the same conclusion: that Darden was not in fact guilty of blowing up the fuel station. It had entered the hyperspace tunnel the day before and was due to emerge over Telos at 1800 hours. Docking would of course take a few hours, so she might reasonably expect the Republic to call tomorrow morning. As such, Darden had been very relieved when the Ithorian compound had called saying B-4D4 had completed his mission and retrieved the incriminating files from the Czerka mainframe. Unless she got off the station before the evening, she might as well kiss her freedom goodbye.

She had sent Kreia and Atton to the docking bay, swearing to them she'd push for the shuttle. And then she'd headed up alone to do so. Darden walked into the compound. Chodo was waiting. He greeted her formally again, the first time he had done so since their meeting, gripping both forearms.

/I and all my herd thank you, Darden Leona,/ he said. /When they see the files you have helped us to obtain, the Telosian authorities are certain to expel Czerka from Telos and Citadel Station. Our work can begin again./ He handed a chip to Moza and bowed formally. /Moza, please take these to the Citadel Station TSF immediately,/ he said with a note of triumph in his voice.

/As you wish, Chodo,/ said Chodo Habat's assistant. /I will return when it is done./

Chodo turned again to Darden. /The Restoration Project is still in some danger,/ he conceded. /Citadel Station requires a new source of fuel—but at least Czerka will be gone. Even they can do nothing in the face of such indisputable evidence./

Darden nodded. "Once I'm off Station, I'm going to look for fuel," she told him. "Among other things. That is, I'll keep an eye out. I can't help but feel partially responsible for what happened at Peragus, even though I wasn't the one that blew it up. If I hadn't happened to be there, Peragus would be fine. But I'm glad I could help you here. I think what you're trying to do here is great."

The leathery skin around Chodo's eyes wrinkled as he beamed. /And now we shall help you. I have heard that the ship you arrived on is missing—hidden somewhere on Telos. I know one who could help you find it, and a means by which you could travel to him./

_Finally, _Darden thought, but she listened politely.

/When Citadel Station was developing the shield system it uses to protect the Restoration Zones, they worked with a Zabrak ex-military engineer named Bao-Dur./

Darden went still and her blood ran cold.

/Bao-Dur designed and oversaw the installation of the shield system's planet-side components. His knowledge of Telos' surface and shield grid is unparalleled. If there is anyone who could locate your ship on Telos' surface, it is he. He is a friend, and may be trusted./

Darden shook her head and gave one, incredulous bark of laughter. "Don't I know it," she murmured. "I—I've worked with him before. He didn't always design planet shields to help things build and grow." She laughed again. "It had to be him, didn't it? Oh, somewhere the Force is laughing at me."

/I do not understand you,/ Chodo Habat said.

"Never mind," Darden told him. "Where is Bao-Dur?"

Chodo blinked, but then bobbed his head. /Bao-Dur should be on Telos' surface. I believe he is at one of the currently Czerka-held Restoration Zones, RZ-0031./

Darden frowned. She wasn't particularly eager to see Bao-Dur again, considering, except that the Force had thrown him into her path again now, when she needed him. How did she know, though, that he wouldn't feel similarly about her? "Will he help me?"

/He has been our ally in our struggle against Czerka,/ Chodo said. /If you tell him that I sent you, he should be willing to help./

Darden frowned. "Just what is he doing down there in the Czerka-held territory, anyway?"

Chodo sighed, looking sad. /He grew weary of the Telosian government's reluctance to quickly resolve our contract dispute with Czerka,/ he said. /Perhaps as a Zabrak, he does not have our patience. When we last spoke, he said he would contact Czerka and handle the matter himself. How he intended to do this, I do not know. I have not seen him since./

Darden had a pretty fair idea how Bao-Dur might have tried to 'handle the matter himself'. She hadn't fought beside the Zabrak engineer, hadn't had much to do with him besides weapons planning for the end, for Malachor. She didn't blame him for what he'd done. How could she? He had been an engineer. But a brilliant engineer, to devise such a weapon. He must have had a lot of anger in him. And now, after Malachor, even if he was now helping to rebuild Telos, perhaps, especially if he was helping to rebuild Telos—he probably still carried a lot of anger. Or more. She hoped he hadn't died trying to take Czerka on by himself.

"You said you could help me get to him. How?" Darden asked. "If he's in one of the Czerka Restoration Zones…?"

/I will allow you to use one of our orbital shuttles,/ Chodo Habat said. /It has no hyperdrive, but will allow you to descend to the planet's surface and make a return trip to Citadel Station. I must point out that this is illegal. Landing on the planet's surface without permission is forbidden, and we no longer control that Restoration Zone, as you have said. Please be as discreet as possible. The closest shuttle is in—/

"Bay 2, Dock Module 126," Darden finished. "I saw it when I picked up your droid."

/Even so,/ Chodo said. /I will call ahead and have the ship prepared for you./

It had all gone exactly according to plan, and yet—Darden hesitated to go. She looked to the left, where Moza usually stood. "Before I leave," she said. "You had Moza tell me that you would try and heal me?"

The skin around Chodo's eyes wrinkled again. /Indeed, and I have not forgotten the promise that I made to you,/ he said. He drew up straighter and put his hands on Darden's shoulders. /When you first stood before me, you opened my eyes to a hurt almost as great as the planet's. Your wound…I can feel the immensity of your loss. Yet I can feel that you are slowly regaining what you have lost, and that, in time, you may fully heal./

/Perhaps your time here has helped,/ he said. /I believe that it has. I think that I can help in your recovery, at least partially. I must admit, however, that even as the healer of my herd, I have never faced an injury such as this./

"Total severance of the Force from one who once felt it as strongly as anyone in the galaxy," Darden murmured. "It was as though I had lost all my senses after—"she trailed off.

/In healing a planet,/ Chodo said, /It is a matter of connections. As plants feed animals, and animal populations thrive and grow, life connects and expands. The living web of the Force. I have walked in the growing Restoration Zones and felt the fullness of life, and perhaps that connection will help make you whole again. Perhaps you will find more than you think on the surface. You, I, my herd, helped to build that, the life of the planet./

He squeezed Darden's shoulders. /Though we describe the restoration as a process, we are, in truth, opening Telos to the Force. Thus, I believed I could help you. That perhaps through your work with the planet and my guidance, I might restore some part of the Force to you./

Darden thought hard. It was true that during her work for Chodo, her work for Telos, she had felt the Force more strongly than previously. She had manipulated it again for the first time. Even now, she felt the currents of life on the Station taking a different path than they would have had she never come here. A path of growth more natural than artificial, and more wholesome. Her connections to her companions had grown stronger, and she thought she had begun to learn to relate to others once again. Darden thought Kreia was wrong about a lot of things, but the old woman had said more than once that isolation weakens, and connections strengthen a person. Darden felt stronger because of what had happened here on Citadel Station.

"I think you have, in some ways," she told Chodo Habat. "If there is something more you wish to do, I would allow it, and be grateful."

Chodo bobbed his head. /Let us see what I can do,/ he said. He closed his bulbous eyes, and concentrated. His grip on her shoulders loosened, but something more than physical contact flowed between them and Darden, for a moment, felt more conscious of the existence of this kind, naïve Ithorian priest. /There,/ he said, opening his eyes. /It is not much, but I feel that my efforts have been somewhat successful./

He released her, and bowed again. /Again, thank you Darden Leona. Go with our thanks./

Darden could only bow, deeply and gratefully. She made her way out of the compound.

On her way, she fiddled with that lightsaber fixture again. In Entertainment, she stopped by the Dobo store. She purchased there a slim, elegant double vibroblade. It was lightweight, but long, with a wickedly sharp blade. When Darden ran her finger along it (with the power cell turned off, of course) she cut it. She meant to build a lightsaber off that fixture, if she could find the parts, but unless she got in the practice of using a double-bladed melee weapon again it wouldn't do her much good.

She was thirty minutes out of the compound and about to board the shuttle for the Dock Module with her new vibroblade when she got a message over her com-link.

Darden accessed it and beheld the terrified face of Moza. He told her in fast, hurried tones that he had returned to the compound only to find it under attack by mercenaries—nearly a dozen. They were slaughtering his brethren, and being pacifists and largely without even weapons, the Ithorians were incapable of defending themselves. Chodo Habat had barricaded himself in his office, but Moza was afraid the mercenaries would soon breach the door, and Moza dared not go to him through the other rooms of the compound. He had locked himself in the vivarium—they were dying. Would she—

Darden shut off the com and started running. By giving the shuttle pilot a rather large bribe, Darden managed to cut her time to Residential 082 down to ten minutes, but by the time she had arrived she didn't hear a lot of Ithorian cries. She drew her blaster and ducked into the door.

They started firing at her immediately. By dodging behind the door frame, Darden was able to avoid getting hit immediately. She gunned down three of them and sprang out of hiding, holstering her blaster pistol and drawing her vibroblade out of its sheath on her back. She cut the droid still in the opening office, and spotted the receptionist lying beneath the desk. He was shot through the hip and shoulder, and there was a nasty slice on his arm, but Darden judged he'd live. She grabbed a medpac from her pack and tossed it to him. "Out into the corridor," she ordered. "Go to the terminal, call the TSF. Hurry."

The Ithorian mumbled something that might have been an affirmative and staggered to his feet. Darden didn't wait for him to leave. She opened the door to the main room of the compound and ducked out of the way again. Several shots came through the opening, and now she was hearing the cries and the groans of dying sentients. Darden ducked just as a vibroblade swung over her head and standing back up, impaled one of the mercs. She pushed another back with the Force and shot him. Then, thinking hard about the lightsaber forms she could recall—Shii Cho? Soresu? Which was which and how should she hold her blade?—Darden darted out into the main room and sprang upon another of the mercenaries.

Duck. Weave. Dodge. Deflect. Thrust. Parry. Slice. Block. Vertical Sweep, horizontal pass, the combat had a rhythm that Darden found she could still recall after ten years. She fell into it as mechanically as a droid falls back into its factory settings after a memory wipe. She ignored the blood spurting and the whimpers of Ithorians and her own rage at this unannounced attack on a defenseless people as irrelevancies. She focused on her form, on her opponents' form, on the obstacles in the room. A blaster bolt hit her lower back and was deflected by her armor. Darden felt it bruise, though, and was only grateful to Atton. She'd be sore, but that could have been her spine.

Three minutes after she had entered the main room it was all over. Darden spared the merc corpses on the ground a cursory glance and focused on the Ithorians. She judged some of them had fled successfully, but there were ten bodies in here on the ground. She ran eyes over the bodies. Six of them were definitely dead. Two were dying—bleeding out on the tile. That head wound and that lopped off arm would leak out too much for her to stop with her current supplies. In all likelihood they'd die before the TSF made it, if the TSF was even coming at all. Two of them, though, weren't so badly off. One of them had a fairly severe midsection wound, but he'd had the sense to stanch the blood flow and remain still on the ground. The other, a female, was even now climbing to her feet. She'd taken a slice on the thigh, but it looked shallow, and she was otherwise unmarked. Darden tossed her a couple medpacs, too. "Do what you can for him," she said, nodding to the one with the midsection wound. "Make the others as comfortable as possible. If the TSF get here, direct them to the vivarium and Chodo Habat's office."

The Ithorian female tried to stammer out thanks, but Darden had already left for the vivarium.

The door had, it looked like, only just been breached. Moza and an Ithorian female were cowering in the corner, and two droids and a merc were closing in. Darden shot the merc's brains out and swept her vibroblade through the cores of both droids, thanking the Force for the non-conductive grip.

/Darden Leona!/ Moza said. /I had thought you perhaps would not come!/

"Have they gotten through to Habat yet?" Darden said, looking over at the vivarium terminal. "You've been monitoring things."

/They breached the door two minutes ago,/ Moza informed her. /And closed and locked it behind them./ He reached into his robe and brought out a key card. /This will get you inside, but I fear it may already be too late./

Darden took the key card, turned on her heel, and ran for Chodo Habat's office. She swiped herself in. She ducked as the door opened, but she wasn't fast enough. The merc leaders had heard her enter the compound, heard the blaster fire and their companions dying. They had been ready for her. A woman had been waiting by the door with a vibroblade. She had swung it at neck-level as the door had opened. At least, she had swung it at the neck-level of the average man. Darden Leona was not a tall woman, however. She was, in fact, very short. So though she ducked too late, instead of beheading her, the woman's vibroblade only grazed the very top of her forehead then whistled over her head. Darden felt a stinging pain, and then blood began to gush. But not before she had in her turn- and more successfully- swung her vibroblade at her attacker and cut her down.

There were two more of them. A hard-faced, big man with a brutal jaw and eyes set too close together, and another woman, taller than Darden, with a long scar that ran from the corner of her right eye to right beneath her ear.

The woman laughed an angry laugh. "This is it, then? This is your help, Habat? You're the Jedi?" she asked Darden.

Darden swiped her hand across her forehead, trying to keep the blood from the head wound out of her eyes. "You've caused us a hell of a lot of trouble, schutta," the man said.

Darden wiped her forehead again. Her bangs were sticking in the blood, and the blood was running down them, dripping on her cheek. "Your friends are dead," she said. "The Exchange is kaput, and I think the Telosian government is probably even now signing off on the order to kick your bosses off the planet. The TSF ought to be here any minute. Just—just give it up. There's no one to pay you now, and if you leave you can probably get out with your lives, at least. It's a better chance than you gave these Ithorians."

Chodo Habat was hiding beneath his desk, too. The man laughed as angrily as his companion. "I don't think so," he said. "We were paid in advance for this job, and we owe you one, 'Jedi'. More than one."

Darden nodded, then stopped. Her head throbbed. She ducked as the man pointed his blaster and fired and ran right at him. She swiped her vibroblade at his blaster hand, but he'd shielded. Her blow was absorbed. He kicked out and Darden caught his leg on her vibroblade. It didn't cut him, but she jimmied it up to throw him onto his back. It wasn't a move he was expecting. He fell and Darden felt out with the Force. She overloaded his shield with energy, and it died. She stabbed down into his throat just as the blood from her forehead dripped into her eyes at last.

On instinct she jumped back, and the woman's vibroblade came down on her armored shoulder instead of her head. Darden swiped up with her vibroblade and felt the woman's weapon leave her hand. Then she cried out. It'd been a single vibroblade, and panicking upon being disarmed, the woman merc had drawn her blaster with her left hand and fired at random. Due to her fear and lack of practice with her left, the bolt had missed any vital place. But it had still hit a mark—Darden's right calf.

Her lower leg on fire with pain, Darden swiped the blood out of her eyes again and found the eyes of her opponent. Shoving out with the Force, she threw the woman into the wall, drew her blaster, and fired.

_Her_ bolt went home. The woman's body slumped to the floor. Darden grit her teeth and limped over to Chodo Habat's desk. She extended a hand to the wise Ithorian and helped him out.

He looked around. /I never imagined Czerka would resort to this!/ he said sadly. /They will stop at nothing to sabotage our efforts!/

"Dying throes," Darden said. "Chodo—I think we made them mad." She laughed, then winced as more blood trickled down her forehead.

/They were instructed to destroy and kill everything they found in here,/ Chodo said wonderingly. /This time they have gone too far. If the Telosian authorities are told about this, they will surely have no choice but be forced to action. Ah, Moza! You are safe!/

Moza had entered. /Many are not,/ he said. /At least six of our herd have died this day, and perhaps more. But thanks to Darden Leona, you and I are both unharmed. I am glad to see it. The TSF have arrived and are currently administering aid to the wounded in the main room./

Darden took in a rattling breath. Now that the Ithorians were safe, the last thing she wanted was to talk to the TSF. Not with the Ithorian shuttle waiting in Bay 2 to take her to an illegal Restoration Zone hours before the arrival of the _Sojourn_.

/Bring them here, Moza,/ Chodo said. /Once we have explained what has happened here, they will have to see the evil they have allowed onto the Station. They must stop them./

/I will go to them,/ Moza said with a bow.

Darden grabbed Chodo's shoulder. "Is there another way out?" she said. "The compound. There has to be an alternate exit—some way I can get out without going past the TSF."

Chodo bobbed his head. /Of course. With the mercenaries here I could do nothing. Behind the terminal is an exit to a personal shuttle of mine that goes directly to the Docks. I use it when I wish to travel to the surface. You are wounded, however. Would it not be better to wait for the TSF? They could offer you medicine. Or I could do something?/

Darden made to shake her head, but decided that was probably a bad idea. "No," she said. "If I see them now, I won't be able to leave. I have to—it'd take too long to explain."

Chodo gripped her arm and helped her to the shuttle he had indicated, in a tunnel off the terminal room. /I thank you again, Darden Leona. I feared that you had already boarded the shuttle to the Restoration Zone and we would be helpless to defend ourselves./ His head drooped. /You must know there is little more I can give you but my herd's eternal gratitude and wishes that you will find your ship on the planet's surface./

He helped Darden into the shuttle. "Chodo, I only pushed for help these last few days because I wanted the shuttle to the surface," she told him. "I'm not in this for credits, or a reward. I just need to leave. I've been here too long already. There are people after me—but it's been my pleasure. My genuine pleasure. I hope we meet again. I'm sorry I wasn't able to get here sooner—"

There were footsteps outside the door. Chodo closed the shuttle door on Darden. /Those of my herd that fell today will live on through the Force,/ he said. /As for you, Darden Leona, may you have safe travels. Until we meet again./

The shuttle started moving, and Darden accessed the com-link, calling Atton. He came on-screen. "I'm—on my way," she said. "We've got access—I—"

Atton's expression had changed from inquisitive to concerned as he took in her appearance. "You're hurt!" he exclaimed. "What happened?"

Darden shook her head. "Head wounds always bleed a lot," she told him, keeping her voice steady this time. "It looks worse than it is. I'm fine. I'll be there in less than half an hour. Just be in the shuttle and ready to fly."

"What happened?" Atton pressed.

"Tell you later—signing off." Darden gasped then, and drew out her only remaining medpac. She drew out the roll of gauze and the disinfectant and slowly, painfully, rolled down her boot. She'd need a new pair—the blaster bolt had burned right through the hide. She held her calf in her hands, pressing the flesh together, feeling the hole the bolt had drilled in the leg. She felt the damaged cells, imagined them knitting themselves together, duplicating at a faster-than-normal rate to regrow the tiny veins and arteries, the muscle, and the skin. The cells started to respond, started to work, but then it slipped away, like an echo. Darden was grasping at air. She swore.

Then Kreia was there, in the back of her head. _You are more injured than you would have had us believe. You forget I feel your pain. _The words rang out in the back of her skull.

_Didn't want you to worry, _Darden sent back an image of Atton's concerned face. _He was about to lose it as it was, and the TSF are going to be looking for us. I don't know why he's so bothered about me. _Her uneasiness and confusion about Atton started to bleed over the link, her wish that he'd start acting with the sense she thought he possessed and get the hell out instead of—_It's not like I'm going to die. I've had—worse than this. _

_ Yes, _Kreia replied, keeping her own thoughts tightly sealed behind a mental wall and only projecting words into Darden's head. _You are strong, and will recover. Nevertheless, if we are to flee this place you will need your strength. It evades you: how to manipulate the Force into binding flesh and sinew together again. Battle you recall. Healing will come more slowly. For now, take what strength you need from me. We will discuss how you might use the Force in the future to shape your physicality, persuade it to health again after an injury such as these. _

Kreia's mind withdrew, but in its place strength and knowledge welled up in Darden's head. She felt Kreia willing her back to health. Darden pressed a hand to her forehead to find that the slice had stopped bleeding, was closing up. She put her hands to her leg again, and willed it to repair itself with strength borrowed from Kreia. The wound itched as the Force worked in it, knitting it together naturally, if more speedily than it would have taken otherwise. Darden dug out her canteen and picked the roll of gauze up again. She wet it, and slowly started scraping blood both dried and wet away from the healed wounds.

_Thank you, Kreia._

* * *

COMMAND DECK OF THE _SOJOURN, _1830 HOURS

In the conference room of the Republic vessel _Sojourn_, the Admiral shut off the transmission to the TSF office on Citadel. Dol's face went off. The admiral, a handsome man in his early forties, sat back in his chair and leaned his forehead in his palm, rubbing his temples.

He wished she hadn't run. He understood why she had. The entire galaxy was after General Darden Leona. Half wanted to kill her. Half wanted to use her. Aithne wouldn't have stood for it, either. Neither would Bastila, now he thought of it. Jolee—he didn't even want to think about what Jolee would've done.

It hurt to think about them. The losses added up, over the years. The Admiral could see in in the glass these days, in the lines on his brow and the traces of silver at his temples. At least Dustil was still out there, last he'd heard. And Mission had checked in last week, just off leave she'd taken to Kashyyyk. The Admiral smiled at the ground. It had truly been a joy the last few years, getting to know his son again and to raise Mission into as staunch a defender of the Republic as he'd ever been, even if she did it in an—unorthodox way, to say the least.

Juhani had dropped off the map three years ago. Bastila, two. Jolee had held on until the Republic had finally determined that someone was killing off the Jedi, and then had had the audacity to die of old age instead of to someone's blade. The Admiral chuckled to himself, a sad sort of sound. Dustil had taken the old man's loss hard. So had all of them that had known him.

They were all dead now. All the Jedi. All except two. Aithne—but she was gone. And this General Darden Leona—this exile—who had shown up out of the blue four weeks ago and had flown out of a blown up planet one week ago on the _Ebon Hawk_. It'd been apparent pretty early on that she'd had nothing to do with what had happened on Peragus. Well, nothing except being there. From as far as the Republic could tell, at least two groups had wanted her badly enough to cause everything that had happened there. Maybe more. It was a hell of a loss to Telos. The Admiral didn't know if his homeworld could make it. He would have to personally devote an effort to finding an alternate source of fuel for Citadel, or the entire war restoration effort, not just on Telos, but on other worlds, too, would come to a grinding halt. Aithne wouldn't be happy if he let that happen.

Aithne. The Admiral was terrified for her. The ship—the _Ebon Hawk_. The last time he had seen it, it had been flying her away from him four years ago. Out beyond the Rim into the Unknown Regions. Now it was back, and this Darden Leona was flying it. The Admiral was terrified it meant that Aithne was—that she was—

No. She was the most powerful Jedi the Order—or the Sith—had seen for centuries. He had seen her destroy worlds, and rebuild them. He had helped her take on armies, seen her come off the Star Forge with a mere scratch after killing Darth Malak himself. Something had happened, but she was alive. She had to be.

Odds were General Darden Leona didn't know anything about Aithne. Records showed that she'd taken possession of the _Hawk _on Peragus, that it'd come from nowhere before then. But maybe she would find something out. Maybe there were records on the ship, or she had traced the course the _Hawk_ had taken through the navicomputer.

The Republic had decided not to detain the exile. They'd decided to watch her, instead. She'd already all but obliterated the crime and corruption that had been sprouting on Citadel Station, though now the Station was more under policed than ever. Still, it had been a good effort. Astoundingly good, considering she'd done it in three days.

She was on the surface now. Who knew where, doing who knew what. Admiral Carth Onasi sighed. He wished she hadn't run.

* * *

**A/N: So, just to sketch out the route my AU characters from **_**The Edge of Light and Dark**_** took in this more-canon universe: Carth still adopted Mission and reconciled with Dustil. Jolee still took on Dustil as a Padawan for a while (in case you hadn't got the reference, Darden met them out on the Rim). Mission still went into the Republic Special Forces and Zaalbar still wound up as Chieftain of Rwookrrorro. For a while—a few months, maybe a year—Carth and Aithne were together. Then she hightailed it beyond the Rim and left Carth in charge of the Republic without much explanation. Shortly thereafter Juhani wound up dead (probably in something that looked like an accident). About a year, maybe two, after that, they got Bastila. She was found dead in her apartment just two days after she'd left the Order because she'd finally decided she couldn't reconcile what she'd learned from Aithne with the Jedi Code. They had a harder time writing that off as an accident. By the time another year had wound around (and a few months before this story starts) the Republic had started to realize that, hey, all the Jedi were dead or dying. The Order was going extinct! Jolee Bindo had suspected this for some time. He laughed about it in that bitter, cynical, humorous way he had with Dustil and Carth Onasi. He was sick, though, and old. He died a few weeks later. Dustil took off and started hiding his lightsaber, living on the run from whatever was stalking the Jedi. He checks in with his dad every now and then, always from some place different. He actually might come into the story later. Mission might, too. They might come in together, who knows? (For the record, I don't ship Dustil and Mission, but I think they'd make a wonderful evil-fighting stealth team. Think Luke Skywalker and Han Solo, but more super-spy with a quasi-brother/sister vibe added in.)**

**Coming Next: On the surface of Telos, Darden and the Iridonian super-engineer Bao-Dur have an awkward glad-to-see-you-sort-of-but-also-hate-remembering-what-a-horrible-person-I-was reunion. Bao-Dur joins forces with our heroine, Atton Rand, and the mysterious Kreia to help find the **_**Ebon Hawk,**_** and its thieves. On the way they encounter more mercs—surprisingly not hired by the unscrupulous Jana Lorso—and narrowly avoid (but without realizing it) those terribly annoying HK assassin droids. **

**I'll keep writing, you keep reading! And leave a review in the box as you go. **

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp**


	10. The General Again

**Disclaimer: There comes a time when you can't think of any more ways to phrase these.**

* * *

IX.

The General Again

TELOS, RESTORATION ZONE 0031

Things had been changing for the worse ever since Czerka had taken the Restoration Zones. Plants had been dying. The cannoks had killed all the herbivores. But things had reached a peak level of bad this afternoon when an Ithorian orbital shuttle had been shot down. The Iridonian engineer followed the smoke to the crash, hoping he could save the ship for use to get back to Citadel and regroup.

He knew when he saw the wreck that it was hopeless. One of the wings had come off, the motor had combusted—there was a fire going and the heavy front window had busted, even. If Bao-Dur had a company of techs and a month he couldn't fix it.

There was a groaning inside. Bao-Dur started and looked at his remote. There were people inside that wreck still alive!

Wielding his electric arm and his vibroblade in tandem as needed to cut away the wreckage, Bao-Dur freed the pilot first. He was closest to the fire and in the most immediate danger. He'd sustained an impressive bump on the head—inhaled some smoke, but he'd probably come round in anywhere from twenty minutes to an hour. But it was strange—he was human, not Ithorian. Something strange was going on.

The two other passengers were human, too. Women. The old woman looked like she had tried to shield the younger one with her body in the crash. She'd been hit by a flying bit of metal. There was a gash on her cheek and another on her hand. But she was breathing normally, too. Bao-Dur carried her out of the wreck and laid her beside the pilot. Then he went back for the other woman. He tossed her over his shoulder and grabbed her pack and jumped out of the wreck. Then he laid her down in the sunlight, and got quite a shock.

The human woman on the grass in front of him was older. There were faint lines now around her eyes and mouth where there hadn't been any ten years ago—the trace of a scar on her forehead—though—wait, maybe he'd imagined that. Her thick dark hair wasn't in a regulation bun, but cut untidily and short. Amazing how much a few years and a haircut could alter a human's appearance, but it was her. He wasn't imagining things.

The last Bao-Dur had seen of General Darden Leona, she had been giving him the order to destroy Malachor V. And now she'd crashed right in front of him. Bao-Dur sat down beside her, waiting for her to wake up. To tell the truth, he wasn't sure how he felt about that. A Jedi nowadays was trouble. The General—she was trouble anyway. Good woman, though. Fair. Brilliant. Mind almost as logical as a droid's, if he remembered right. He'd always liked her best of the Jedi officers, even if—

Of course, it had been his weapon. She'd commissioned it, ordered its use, but he'd built it. There was no denying that. Seeing her here reminded him how he'd felt that day, those years, and he'd spent years trying to forget.

Still, she had been there. She had survived it. She knew what it had been like. So many people didn't. If he ever explained, and usually he didn't, he'd get pitying looks, or worse. They didn't understand. The General—no matter what she was here for, no matter what she needed—she might get it. They had that in common, and so he'd help her out.

She stirred. And Bao-Dur said, "Good to have you back, General."

* * *

"Good to have you back, General." The soft, quiet voice called her out of unconsciousness. She knew that voice from the distant past. That voice had been important once. Darden's eyelashes fluttered and she sat up and put a hand to her head. As she did so she felt the last of the scar from the vibroblade earlier that day vanish (or had it been yesterday?) It was daylight, at least, though that didn't signify anything. The time could be different here than on Citadel. She struggled to get her clunking thoughts in order.

They'd been flying to RZ-0031, she recalled. Had they made it? "Yeah," she muttered, trying to focus on the person who'd been speaking to her. "What happened?"

A gray, craggy hand reached out to steady her, and Darden looked over into a set of staggeringly golden eyes set in a gray, craggy face topped with several white horns. "Easy now," Bao-Dur the ex-military Zabrak engineer, inventor of the Mass Shadow Generator, said in his surprisingly soft voice. "You survived one spectacular crash. Lucky I was here to pull you and your friends out of that shuttle or you'd be more than a little crispy. But it's only fair. I owe you more than one, General."

Darden shook her head, trying to displace the aches that filled her entire body. "Darden," she muttered. "It's just Darden."

Bao-Dur's mouth quirked self-mockingly. "You must be in shock from the crash," he said. "Have to expect some long-term memory loss from that. Too bad she's not a droid, huh?" he added to the little remote hovering over his shoulder. It beeped fuzzily and he smiled. "We can't all be that lucky. I'll humor you, General. I was one of the Iridonian mechanic corps that was at Malachor. Bao-Dur? I can see how you'd forget me, being as I was the only one."

No, Darden remembered him. The face, the talent, the deadpan self-effacing humor. "No, I remember you. It's still just Darden."

Bao-Dur nodded, getting it, and the slight hurt left his eyes. "Yeah, I don't like to talk about the war, either. We all went through some tough times after Malachor. Maybe it's best if we forget. Guess that's one thing we've got better than droids—they can't forget anything." He shrugged. "But then you give them a memory wipe and they forget for good."

Darden tried to stand up, but her head was still spinning and when she tried to move more her stomach swooped threateningly. Bao-Dur grabbed her shoulder again to steady her. "How are the others?" she asked.

"They'll be fine," he promised her, gesturing behind her with—Darden checked—Bao-Dur's left arm was gone. It had been replaced with an electric monstrosity that looked like it had been based off of shield technology. It blazed with energy and ended in a metal fist, but even as she watched the fingers moved. She stared, wildly curious as to how it worked. But Bao-Dur was talking, telling her about Atton and Kreia behind her. She forced her eyes to return to his face and listened. "The pilot's more or less unharmed and the old lady, well, she's tougher than she looks. You know, I never thought I'd see you again, General. Galaxy's a big place, and this is the last place I thought I'd bump into you. So I have to ask, just what are you doing here?"

"Tell you one thing: I'm _not_ serving as the general of anybody or anything," she said, a bit waspishly. "I am looking for my ship."

Bao-Dur looked back at the ship. The fire was dying out now, but the smell of burnt metal and singed turf still filled the air. "Got some news for you, General. That shuttle of yours is done for—scrap."

There was a little groan behind her. Then, "Well. This is familiar. Feels like my last time on Telos."

Darden ignored Bao-Dur's hand and whirled. Atton was sitting up, too, and now standing. Bao-Dur had been telling the truth. He was fine. He had a nasty lump above the left eyebrow, and the front of his shirt had been singed, but he was fine. He staggered over to Darden and extended a hand down to help her to her feet. Darden took it and stood. Bao-Dur stood, too.

"Crashed a shuttle that time, too?" he asked pleasantly.

"No, pazaak," Atton said, completely unhelpfully.

Darden nodded to Bao-Dur as Kreia climbed to her feet heavily, too. "Bao-Dur, Atton Rand," she said. "Atton, Bao-Dur."

"That was not the most pleasant landing I've endured," Kreia said with a poisonous Force-glance at Atton. "Next time, we should perhaps seek out a more reputable pilot."

Kreia was bleeding from a slice on her cheek. Darden went to her and grabbed her remaining hand, willing her to heal, but the Force didn't respond. Kreia had blocked their connection. She wasn't going to let Darden help her. Darden glared at her and threw over her shoulder to Bao-Dur, "This is Kreia. They don't like each other very much."

At almost the same time Atton snapped back, "You're welcome, Kreia. You know, if I weren't such a crack pilot, we could have hit the shield wall or one of those rock faces," effectively proving Darden's point.

"Yes," Kreia said acidly. "Our current situation is a vast improvement."

"Play nice, Kreia," Darden said. "Something shot us down. What was it?"

Kreia raised her hand to her face and her cut sealed itself up. She did not reply. Atton shrugged. "Beats me. No one's supposed to be here but a Czerka research team. I can't say they'd be happy to see us…" Darden snorted. "But shooting us down? I can't imagine Czerka having us shot down by a bunch of scientists, either. You know, I caught a glimpse of what looked like an AD tower when we flew over the compound."

Darden rolled her shoulders and tilted her neck from side to side. "So. The research station has an AD tower. Of course it does." She looked at Bao-Dur and smiled ruefully. "This sort of thing's been happening to me a lot lately," she explained.

"Yeah, no kidding. It's a pretty fair bet that the station's doing something it shouldn't be. I've seen pirate bases with the same sort of set-up." Atton said.

Darden sighed and picked her pack up from the ground, glad she'd seen fit to stuff food into it this morning from the apartment. "Whatever it is, we'll deal with it," she said. "We have to find the _Hawk_."

She spotted her new vibroblade and her old blaster lying on the ground a little ways away and retrieved them, too. Bao-Dur frowned in confusion looking at the vibroblade. "I can help you find it—"he said. "I have access to the shield network. I came hoping to repair whatever damage your shuttle took, but not even I can fix that wreck."

Darden frowned. Bao-Dur would be a big help, but his habit of calling her General could prove problematic. She didn't want to talk about the war and neither did he, but if Darden knew Kreia she'd start some sort of lesson about the pain of the past and how Darden could draw strength and knowledge from its lessons, as if Darden couldn't write the book on that. As for Atton, Darden had a feeling not asking about her past was taking all the questionable willpower he possessed. For some reason she really, _really _didn't want to talk about the war with Atton. She couldn't look at Bao-Dur without thinking of that day. She imagined he couldn't look at her without thinking of it, either. Still, she needed his help more than she needed to be comfortable.

So she nodded. It felt as though ten pounds had sat on her shoulders, but she nodded. "So. You know the area. What's the plan?"

Bao-Dur jerked his head off to the west. "We'll have to get back to the compound," he said. "It's the old Ithorian research station, turned into a salvage team staging area. It won't be an easy hike."

"What's the lay-out?"

"First there's the mercenary pursuit team looking for me," he said. "If Czerka's secured the compound, there could be a lot of them out there. Second, there's all the cannoks."

He referred to a barrel-shaped garbage disposal of a creature. Goggle-eyed, a horrible puke shade of yellow, with splay-legs that packed surprising power of propulsion, and a mouth full of very sharp teeth. They ate everything, and traveled in packs. Darden groaned. "Not those!"

"Yeah, the Ithorians imported them to keep the herbivore population in check."

Darden's eyes swept the plain around them. "What's keeping the cannok population in check? I don't see any herbivores."

Bao-Dur nodded grimly. "Now they'll eat anything they can catch, including us. Without the Ithorians to maintain the accelerated ecosystem's balance, everything here is falling apart. Czerka's killing the Restoration Project piecemeal."

Atton snorted. "Not anymore they're not," he muttered.

Bao-Dur looked inquiringly at them. Darden shifted. "I did a few things, station-side," she told him. "Dug up some stuff. If the Telosian government wants to maintain any sort of moral authority, they'll be kicking Czerka off the project—and off the Station—right about now. But that's not the problem now. The goal now is to get past the obstacles and find the _Ebon Hawk_."

"You got it, General," Bao-Dur said. Out of the corner of her eye, Darden saw Atton open his mouth, then shut it. She stepped ahead so she couldn't see him anymore.

"Lead on, then."

Bao-Dur did start away from the shuttle, but he went still immediately. He pointed where two cliffs almost met, forming a shallow canyon. Darden just saw a triangular droid float away down it. She nodded. "Just keep going. We'll deal. Kreia, Atton? You up for a fight if one comes?"

"Do we have much choice?" Atton said.

"I am ready for battle," Kreia answered.

Darden gripped her vibroblade. Atton nodded at it. "When'd you get that anyway?"

"After I left the Ithorians the first time, before I killed the mercs attacking them," Darden said shortly.

"You're pretty good with a blaster," Atton said. "D'you really need it?"

"It's always good to have a melee weapon on hand," Darden said. "Even if you're—well—me. Besides, I need the practice."

Kreia nodded. "The forms. They are returning to you, are they not? Your body recalls the years of training, even though you have tried so long to forget."

"Quiet," Bao-Dur said, as he led them through the grass. He pointed at a group of three or four men off to the left. "Mercenaries. Right where we need to go," he murmured, motioning for Darden and the others to keep low. "That sentry droid probably spotted us already."

"Great," Atton said.

"They were probably looking for me when they saw your shuttle go down."

Atton raised an eyebrow at Darden. "We could try handing the Zabrak over. You know, bargaining chip?"

"Who do you think shot you down in the first place?" Bao-Dur asked, quite calmly.

"Good point," Atton conceded. "Forget I said anything."

"Besides," Darden said, unsure whether Atton had been joking or not but wanting to say something anyway, "You know how much trouble we caused their bosses up there? They probably want us just as badly as Bao-Dur. Maybe more."

Just then there was a croaky growl to the right, and Darden whirled. A cannok leapt out of the grass. Bao-Dur cut it down with his vibroblade. "There'll be more," he cried.

There were. Five of them. The worst part wasn't the cannoks. It was that their attack had as good as set up a flare for the mercenaries. Darden pulled out her blaster and started firing at them with Atton as Bao-Dur and Kreia worked on the cannoks. The four of them kept their backs to the cliff, and when the cannoks were down, ran forward. Darden pulled out her vibroblade and attacked with Kreia and Bao-Dur.

When the mercs were down Bao-Dur gave them a sad glance, but he said nothing. Just beckoned to them with his arm. "This way, General."

Darden lengthened her stride to draw level with him. "Bao-Dur. It's Darden. Really. Just Darden."

Bao-Dur smiled, and Darden knew it was no good. "Sorry, I guess I just can't get my head out of the past."

"What'd you do after the war, anyway?" Darden asked. "How'd you end up on Telos?"

He shrugged. "I moved around for a couple years. Working as a starship mechanic got me from place to place. I wasn't ready to settle down after the war."

Darden nodded, understanding. "It's hard to stay still. I couldn't find a place that felt like home to me, either, after…"

"Then you understand my restlessness," Bao-Dur agreed. "Though the war had ended, I couldn't find peace in anything. As long as I kept moving, I didn't have to think about what had happened. You know what I mean?"

Darden let out a bark of mirthless laughter. Bao-Dur looked at her sharply. "Who am I?" she said. He nodded. "I know."

"I'm…sure you do," Bao-Dur said. "I decided to do something constructive. I wanted to make up for the things I'd done in the war. I wanted to design planetary shields, but there weren't many systems with the credits to spare—there was more that needed to be rebuilt than protected." He shrugged. "I found out that Telos was going to be the flagship project for the Republic, and it sounded like something good. I saw Telos before the Sith razed it. It deserved a better fate."

Darden looked around. Outside this shielded zone, she knew there was bare rock and caustic, acidic air. But she remembered, too, when Telos had been soft shores and gentle hills, full of growing things and farms and farmers and villages and towns and cities. She nodded.

"Czerka ruined everything," Bao-Dur said venomously, looking around at the grassland minus any animals save pesky predators. "I thought I could force Czerka out on my own, but I guess I can't fix everything myself."

Atton opened his mouth to say something annoying—Darden could tell by the expression on his face. She glared at him and he shut up, holding his hands up harmlessly. Darden smiled at Bao-Dur. "You're the most incredible mechanic and designer I've ever known, but that probably was reaching a little far. It—I think I'm glad to have met up with you again," she said, feeling some surprise. Bao-Dur's wish to protect and build things, to make up for what he had done, resonated with her. She nodded. "Yeah. It's good."

"It's good to be working with you again, General," Bao-Dur replied.

"Cannoks!" Kreia cried. "Can you not feel them? To the right!"

Indeed, four more of the pests sprang up out of the grass. Darden shot one down. Kreia felled another, and Bao-Dur killed one Atton had wounded, but the fourth—Bao-Dur's little remote fired at it and actually lamed it before Kreia killed it. Darden whistled.

"That's some toy," she said.

Bao-Dur smiled fondly at the remote hovering older his shoulder. "That old thing? I built him when I was a kid." He started walking again. "Been following me around for years now, despite what I've done to try and chase him off."

The remote beeped indignantly, and Bao-Dur grinned wider. "Hey, just kidding," he told it. "I'm happy to have you around.

Darden couldn't help grinning herself. "So. What all does it do? That laser's pretty impressive."

Bao-Dur shrugged. "He helps me out with repairs. I outfitted him with the cutting laser and some other tools for delicate modifications, but he's also good for singeing the pants of annoying techs."

"Or cannoks," Darden said, laughing. He nodded in agreement, and Darden decided that she really was glad to have Bao-Dur around again. The remote beeped something.

"I've been thinking of doing some other work on him, but I barely have time. Too busy," Bao-Dur said.

"Doing what? Shooting mercs on the sly, taking out Czerka supply shuttles? Why're they after you, anyway?" Atton asked.

Bao-Dur didn't answer directly. "If the Republic would rein them in there wouldn't be a problem," he said. "But as long as they're allowed to undermine the Ithorians' efforts, Telos will remain dead. I can't stand seeing my work being used by those bloodsuckers."

"I don't think it will be, anymore," Darden said. "Czerka is on their way out, trust me."

Bao-Dur smiled. "If that's true then Telos owes you one, General."

"So. What's with the arm?" Atton asked.

Darden glared at him. He seemed intent on being as rude as possible to Bao-Dur. She didn't get it. But the Iridonian didn't seem to be offended. He grinned.

"I got tired of it—kept dropping my hydrospanner. Figured I'd get a new one."

Atton laughed then, and he nodded. Darden frowned. "Seriously? I bet that was…fun."

Bao-Dur shook his head. "Actually, it's a souvenir from Malachor," he said softly. "I was lucky it was all I lost."

Darden checked her pace to fall back beside Kreia, behind Atton and Bao-Dur. "Oh—"she said in a very small voice. "I…"

"But it at least gave me something to do, right?" Bao-Dur said quickly, glancing back at her with sympathy. "Everyone always said I was probably half machine, anyway. Don't worry about it, General."

"Why would she?" Atton asked. "It's not like it's her fault."

Neither Darden nor Bao-Dur said anything. Atton looked at Bao-Dur, then back at Darden. His expression didn't change at all, but Darden got the sense that suddenly it was a mask, and some things had finally come together for him. He didn't say anything, and Darden was grateful. She didn't ask if he got it now. She didn't want to hear it. She quickened her pace, and so did Bao-Dur. Silence fell over the group. Darden had caught up with Bao-Dur. Well, she hadn't told him what she'd been doing. But she wasn't going to, either.

They fought cannoks twice more before they heard anything other than tense, uncomfortable silence. Then, Darden heard it. A whoosh, a crash. The sea. She knew this Restoration Zone only contained part of the shore, but it was still wonderful to hear, and when Bao-Dur led the party around a corner and they could _see_ it, she took in a breath. The tide was going out gently. The waves were clear and green, and the air smelled salty and fresh.

Darden looked out over the waves. She couldn't see the ocean. Twenty feet out, a shield rose up. Darden knew it went up through the atmosphere and down to the bottom of the ocean. Beyond it would be another Restoration Zone, where the Ithorians would be doing work with oceanic life instead of grasslands and coastline. But it was there. She could feel the Telosian sea, sick now, but getting better. That Zone was still held by Chodo Habat. She would bet on it. She felt fish and plants in the sea, both predators and prey, struggling, adapting, getting stronger and making their home clean and good again.

On impulse, Darden ripped off her boots and socks and ran over the sand into the surf. She squeezed her toes into the wet sand and felt the cold water lapping over her bare feet and ankles, getting her fiber pants wet, but she didn't care. She laughed in delight.

Bao-Dur smiled from the shore. "I always feel a sense of calm when I walk the surface of Telos," he said. "The Ithorians are truly amazing in their work."

Kreia sniffed. Darden got the impression she was glaring from underneath her hood. "Perhaps. It is unimportant. Jedi, you waste time."

"Stuff it, Kreia!" Darden cried. "I needed this. The Republic's going to figure out we got shut down and have trouble tracking us for a while, anyway. So will anyone else after us."

Atton laughed. "Most days it just seems to me the Ithorians are wasting the Republic's credits," he told Bao-Dur. "But—now that you mention it." Darden had started walking in the surf in the general direction Bao-Dur had been taking them. Atton walked parallel to her on the shore, watching her. "I think I feel it, too. Like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders."

Darden rolled her eyes. "Don't get all sappy on us, Rand. It's okay when Bao-Dur does it, but you?" She kicked water at him, and he dodged, laughing again.

"Hey! I have as much right to be sappy about my inner peace as anybody!" Atton protested.

Bao-Dur held up his hand. "Quiet!" he hissed. Darden immediately went still. So did Atton. Kreia—Kreia had already been still, disapproving of the proceedings. Bao-Dur pointed over the plain with his iron-hand. "You see them?" he murmured, indicating the ten or twelve figures in the distance. "Large mercenary patrol. If we move carefully along the perimeter, we may be able to get by without their spotting us. We could cross along the shore," he said, nodding to Darden. "Or—"he traced a path along the cliffs they'd just left, around the mercenaries. "Head along the cliffs to the south."

They were getting close to the salvage stage, then. Soon there'd be a fight. But just for a while, Darden didn't want to fight. She wanted to walk on the shore of the sea that was part of Restoration Zone 0031, feel the life in the ocean beyond the shield in the Zone adjoining, and think about how, thanks to what she had done on Citadel Station, if she came here next year she wouldn't be walking a plain empty of all but mercenaries.

She looked at Kreia pleadingly. The old woman sniffed. "If we can take this path and avoid our enemies, I see no harm in you continuing your foolishness," she conceded.

Darden grinned. "We'll keep to the shore," she said, keeping her voice low. She got out of the water, though. She didn't want to splash when unfriendly ears might hear the noise. She dried her feet on her pack and put her boots on. There was sand in them. She'd have to find some way to take a bath later, but it had been worth it, and the silence had been broken.

After that, though, the Telosian leisure hike interspersed with periodic cannok-battling turned into mercenary battling. Darden and the others made it past the one enormous patrol, but then there was a minefield, sentry droids and meaner droids, turrets…Darden wasn't bothering to keep her voice down by the time the old Ithorian compound came into view and the ocean had dropped out of earshot.

"Well," she said, after cutting down yet another droid. "They _really_ don't want anyone to get here, do they? Seriously, it's just a salvage stage. Everyone knows that they're not really helping the Restoration Zone and aren't planning on converting what's here to profit for Telos."

Bao-Dur grimaced. "You don't have to tell me. Look, there's the landing pad. There should be a computer terminal I can access from there. Looks like we're going to have to fight our way there, though."

"What else have we been doing for the last ten minutes?" Atton said acidly.

Either the patrol had returned, or there were about fifteen mercs in the way of the landing pad. Darden swallowed. Fantastic. She shielded, and behind her heard the others do so as well.

The merc in the front was sneering at her. Three of his teeth were missing, and his nose had been broken more than once, so it was pretty intimidating, as far as sneers went. "What do we have here?" he called. "The 'Jedi', is it? Saves us the trouble of looking for you. Corrun Falt did say you were dangerous…maybe he does know what he's talking about."

Darden smiled ruefully. "So. He found out who I was after I left, did he? You'd think he'd be grateful I put him in power."

The mercenary snorted. "What with what you did up there he'll be lucky if he lasts the week and he knows it. The whole damn Czerka branch is about to come tumbling down because of you. And our one shot off-world is the credits Falt paid us to keep everyone out of the Restoration Zone—you in particular."

Darden blinked. "If you've already got the credits, why stay?" she asked. "You've failed to keep me out of the Zone; you've probably got a shuttle. So look, you can tell me what's down here and just leave. I'm not going to tell Corrun Falt on you, and even if I did he couldn't do anything about it."

But the mercs were too angry. They were out of work because of her, and she'd insulted them to boot. "What's down here?" one mocked. "She wants to know what's down here."

"You want to know what's down here?" the leader said. "A grenade with your name on it, Jedi. Attack!"

It was rough going. The mercs were well-armed, well-armored, mad, and they'd already lost a lot of men to Darden and her friends, so they weren't underestimating her. In addition there were fifteen of them, and only four of Darden's group. They were outnumbered more than three to one. But by this time, Darden was starting to get a feel back for using the Force in combat, and she definitely had a feel for how Kreia and Atton fought. Bao-Dur was harder—she found herself watching him more than the others, fighting nearer him to make sure he never got overwhelmed. She knew, or thought she knew, what Atton or Kreia would be doing well enough that she trusted them. Kreia would be taking out the outliers, the ones with grenades or blasters that could take the group out from a distance unless they were taken care of, using the Force to jump to them and her vibrosword to cut them down before they could draw a melee weapon. Atton would be watching Darden's back. Always. He would either be a ways away from the heavy fighting blasting the ones coming up on her from behind or the sides, or literally at her back, facing the other way and taking out attackers from there—usually with his blaster, but sometimes with hand-to-hand techniques Darden had never seen, but she'd heard. He was behind her, after all.

Bao-Dur proved not nearly as strategic. For all the gentleness in his voice, all the brilliance he demonstrated in his work with droids and shields and technology, Bao-Dur was a very, _very_ aggressive fighter. Darden followed him into the thickest fighting and was forced to take advantage of the longer reach of her double-vibroblade both to protect herself and to keep the mercs off Bao-Dur. His attacks were strong. Furious. But his defense was poor, and well bespoke that for most of his life, Bao-Dur had fought with weapons he built that fired and swung themselves.

Nevertheless, Darden was able to keep him safe. Once or twice she heard a merc go down behind or beside her and knew that Atton was keeping _her _safe. And when the promised grenade never came, Darden knew it was down to Kreia. And about seven minutes after the mercenary captain had called for the attack, Darden stood panting at the base of the landing platform with Bao-Dur, Kreia, and Atton. "Everyone all right?" she said. "I've got medpacs if anyone needs them."

"I am unharmed," Kreia announced. "And so are you. But we would know if it were otherwise."

Darden nodded in acknowledgment, and Bao-Dur and Atton shrugged.

"I'm pretty sure you saved my butt back there a time or two, General," Bao-Dur said, sounding a little ashamed of himself.

"You saved us from the shuttle," Darden said. "Don't worry about it."

She nodded towards the landing pad. "Shall we?"

They went up the ramp and Bao-Dur smiled upon seeing the computer there. "Hopefully I'll be able to access the shield network from this console," he told them, pressing a button experimentally. "Good. It's still functional." He started typing very fast. "And my passcodes still work. Now let's find your ship."

"The TSF said the Ebon Hawk wasn't at any sanctioned landing site," Darden remembered, suddenly worried. "What makes you think you can find it?"

Bao-Dur waved a hand in the air. "The TSF probably thinks the ship was put down in the wastes, but they don't know the planet as well as I do. Telos' atmosphere has been turned into acidic vapor. Landing the ship in the wastes would be like sealing it in a hangar full of hungry mynocks."

Atton nodded. Bao-Dur's words confirmed what he had said back at the TSF office, Darden remembered. "I'd say there's probably an illegal landing site somewhere, then."

"Exactly," Bao-Dur agreed, nodding. "A site still shielded, but not a Restoration Zone or other listed facility. That's why I need access to the shield network." All the while he was talking, Bao-Dur was scrolling across the screen, pressing keys, and looking over complicated-looking technical readouts. Finally he stopped, looked close at something, and said, satisfied, "Here—a small anomaly in the shield network's power grid. I'm not surprised the TSF didn't spot this. It's subtle—more like an error or random flux than anything suspicious."

"Where?" Darden asked.

"It looks like the power is being drawn to generate a shield over a small area in the polar region, but nothing should be down there." He logged out of the shield network, pulled up something else. "Orbital cameras show—nothing. Just an empty mesa."

Kreia pursed her lips, and then said, "We should investigate this. I feel this is the best bet of finding the _Ebon Hawk_.

"Maybe so," Darden said, a little more skeptical, "But our shuttle's busted. Even assuming something's up there, how are we going to get to the polar region?"

Bao-Dur was still looking at things on the console. "That's a little tougher," he said. "According to the computer, a shuttle is currently docked inside the research facility—"he nodded over at the building behind the landing pad. "At least, there was at last report. But that was months ago."

"So we don't know if the shuttle's still there," Darden said grimly. "Czerka might've taken it and not updated the records. Or the mercs. Or scavenged it for parts. It might be gone, or it might not be operational."

Bao-Dur grimaced. "That's true, but that's not going to stop me. I'm getting back to Citadel if I have to build a new ship myself."

"That's decided, then," Atton said. "We should get going."

Bao-Dur logged off the computer, but hesitated. "There's one other small problem," he admitted. "I've been hanging around for a while. Recently, Czerka teams that were sent inside the research facility haven't been coming out again."

_Nothing can ever be easy. Ever. _Darden thought. She sighed heavily. "We'll deal."

"It's not like we have any choice," Bao-Dur said.

"Come on," Darden said.

The base turned out to be rather like Peragus, actually. It wasn't so frightening this time around to be surrounded by rogue droids and turrets and the odd rotting corpse, because Darden wasn't alone and half-naked. She had friends and armor and good gear, and with Bao-Dur around, shutting down droids and turrets was so much easier. Darden started wishing she'd met up with the Iridonian a week back in the med bay. It turned out that the Ithorians' research base had been set up in an old military base, so the droids firing on them were Telosian battle droids, and the turrets were battle turrets. Darden didn't think the Ithorians would have armed the defenses of the base against intruders, so it wasn't until she found the damaged HK-50 unit that she knew what had happened.

She looked it over distastefully and kicked the body. It fell over. "Another one," she told Atton and Kreia. "They really do work to a pattern. The _Harbinger_, Peragus. Here. D'you think it's me?"

"How could they have tracked us, though?" Atton asked. "We crashed! No one could've predicted that. Unless—you don't think it shot us down in the first place, do you?"

Bao-Dur knelt to examine the wreckage of the assassin droid. "This model's been here for a while," he said. "A few weeks at least. Much longer than you and your friends have been in the system, General."

"I don't like this," Darden said. "If there's more than one, more could be coming. I'm not too worried about me—the one on Peragus wasn't half so tough as he thought he was—but left to their own devices these models can kill hundreds of people in days. I mean, what's the damage trail going to be like?"

"That is irrelevant," Kreia said. "We do not know if there are more, and just because the one on Peragus chose to slaughter the station does not necessarily mean that if its brethren track you they will not come for you directly. For now, we should simply add these assassin droids to our list of enemies, and keep moving."

"You're right," Darden said. "Borrowing trouble doesn't do anybody any good. Come on."

They found the shuttle easily enough, and, according to Bao-Dur, it was serviceable to get them to the polar region. After a little more maneuver in the abandoned base, Darden had managed find the ignition codes, get the base reactor working, and open the hangar doors. This released an enormous tank droid that the Telosians had held in reserve for wars. It had been sabotaged like the others, so only after defeating it were Darden and her companions able to board the shuttle.

Bao-Dur examined the engine more closely, then gave Atton the go-ahead to start her up. Darden sat in the co-pilot's seat, though Atton had a handle on things. As he flew them up into orbit, she swore softly.

"Lot of trouble for a freighter. Please, please, please let the _Hawk_ be on the mesa in a secret hangar held by someone who just wanted to keep it safe for me from Czerka and the Exchange. Someone who _really_ likes me and will just hand the damn ship over the second I ask."

"Sweetheart, hate to tell you this, but the odds aren't great," Atton said. "And I should know."

"Oh, I know, too," Darden said grimly. "But I am getting so tired of roundaboutation. I'm getting so tired of finding the other way out. It'd be nice to take the normal way out for a change. The easy way out."

"Embrace the challenge," Kreia intoned from the back of the shuttle with Bao-Dur. "Through challenge you are strengthened. What use would the easy way out be to one such as you?"

"Kreia, I need rest," Darden said. "Aside from a two-day break because we were imprisoned under suspicion of killing a planet, if you haven't noticed we've been going all week. And two days in jail isn't exactly restful, no matter how much sleep you get."

"Under suspicion of killing a planet?" Bao-Dur asked. "What do you mean, General?"

His voice was sharp. Darden shook her head. "Not what you think. The Sith are after me, Bao-Dur. They're after all the Jedi. They think I am one; they think I'm the last. They hit an asteroid in the Peragus system firing at us and blew up the mining station."

Bao-Dur was silent for a long moment. "That's—unfortunate. Citadel Station, the Restoration Project, depends on the fuel Peragus provides—provided—to keep going. Without it—"

"I know," Darden said. "Besides a way to keep running from the Sith, that's why I want to find the _Ebon Hawk_. The Restoration Project's too big of a deal to sink because some Sith were after me and didn't care what got in the way."

Kreia pressed her dissatisfaction into Darden's mind. Darden ignored it. "Coming up onto the polar region," Atton said.

Then there was an enormous impact. The smell of burning metal filled Darden's nose again, and they were plummeting, plummeting towards the planet below. Again.

* * *

**A/N: So. This chapter is stupider than I thought it would be. But next chapter things get good. **

**Coming Soon: Shot out of the sky **_**again**_**, Darden Leona finds that the Telosian polar region is **_**not **_**inhabited by her best friends, just taking care of her freighter while she was in jail and surrounded by massive organizations of questionable ethics. Though the Force has returned to her, at least in part, though she is traveling with Bao-Dur the designer of the Mass Shadow Generator, Darden Leona still has yet to confront the decisions she made ten years ago, and the consequences they had. In the next chapter she is forced to do so, and the conclusions she comes to are startling. Also, all is not right with Darden's companions. The **_**Ebon Hawk**_** is found, and Bao-Dur wonders what to do. The Telosian Restoration Project is back on track and Czerka is on its way out, but can he abandon the General now that she is back in his life again, seemingly so assured when he is still so full of confusion? Atton Rand, too, struggles—feelings against fear and strong, strange new loyalty against everything that he is used to considering as good sense—as he tries to decide whether or not he, too, will continue on with Darden. But the mysterious Kreia will not let Atton, at least, make up his own slippery, shifting mind. And the pilot of the **_**Ebon Hawk**_** has secrets and skills he would rather not have Darden know—ones that so far he has been much more successful at hiding from her than she has been at concealing her secrets from him. **

**If you're reading at all and sort of enjoyed what I've written, or if you have anything at all to say about it, I really would appreciate your input.**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp**


	11. Conviction

**Disclaimer: Starting to go semi-AU here. Can't help it with these KotOR stories. But I still don't own anything.**

* * *

X.

Conviction

Darden had kept her wits about her this time, and when the orbital shuttle started to crash she reached out to the Force to lessen the blow and to keep herself conscious. Still, when the shuttle plowed into instead of landed on the snowy polar mesa they'd been heading for, the impact shook every bone in her body. The wing was burning, but she thought the rear exit might still be serviceable. Darden groaned.

"Crashed again. If you're not dead and can hear me, sound off."

"I am here," Kreia said.

"Unh," said Atton.

"Bao-Dur?"

Darden forced her way out of the crushed co-pilot's seat. "Bao-Dur?"

The Iridonian had been in the back seat nearest the hit wing. The back of his head was bleeding, and power in his prosthetic arm had been knocked out. The fist was lying useless on Kreia's side of the shuttle. Darden felt Bao-Dur's other wrist for a pulse. He was still alive. Out cold, probably had a bad concussion, but he'd recover.

"Let's go," Darden said as Kreia and Atton broke out of their seats, too. The smell of burning metal was getting stronger, and the inside of the shuttle was starting to heat up. "Help me with him."

She picked up his fist and put it into one of his oversized utility pockets and swung an arm under his, but he was too big for her to do much more than budge him. Atton came over, blinking dazedly. "This has got to stop happening," he mumbled. Kreia broke open the shuttle door, and Atton helped Darden with Bao-Dur. The four of them left the shuttle and emerged into blinding sun on a snowy mesa. It was cold. Very cold.

"We got to find what's up here. Fast." Darden said. "He won't make it if we don't get him somewhere warmer."

"Neither will we," Atton grunted, straining under Bao-Dur's weight.

"We are not alone!" Kreia warned.

But Darden had heard it, too. The horribly familiar clanking of durasteel legs.

There were three of them, now. Three very operational HK-50 assassin droids just come around the nose of the shuttle.

"Irritated Declaration: There you are. It has been extremely difficult to track you down, Jedi," one said.

"Quick Clarification: But now that we have found you, we hope that we can facilitate communications."

"Unnecessary Addendum: And put an end…"

"An end to hostilities, yeah, yeah, I know." Darden snapped. "You shot down my vessel. Again."

"Unnecessary Clarification: We merely wished to cripple your vessel. Once we tracked your coordinates, we were able to deploy several droids in this location."

"Probing Query: We are, however, curious as to why you chose to come to the remnants of the polar Telos irrigation system."

"Eager Threat: But we are looking forward to extracting your motives for coming here when we place you in torture restraints."

The HK-50 droids all spoke in turn with the same inflection and tonality. Darden found it hard to keep track of which was speaking. She shifted, and Atton took the hint. The two of them eased Bao-Dur down onto the snow, but Darden didn't stop talking. "That speech pattern was annoying enough when there was only one of you," she said. "How many are there, anyway?"

"Chiding Statement: Oh, Jedi, there are as many of us as are needed to capture or kill our targets," one of the HK-50 droids said.

"Egotistical Boast: And there are far more of us than any one Jedi. Destroy one of us, and more shall rise from the wreckage," boasted another.

"Unnecessary Threat: And our attack protocols are more than a match for you—and your allies."

Darden shrugged and pulled her blaster out of its holster. "Stop with the threats, already. I get it. You're right. They're unnecessary. Let's put those attack protocols to the test."

She fired, and Atton with her. Kreia reached out with the Force and one droid went down in a shower of sparks. Darden ducked as a blaster bolt flew over her head and ran, zigzagging so as to make it harder for the HK-50 droids to get a clear shot at her but firing at them nonetheless.

She smiled grimly. The HK-50 droids were excellent at working from the shadows—mass slaughter. Assassination. But straightforward battle was not their forte. They had been built on subtler lines, though they certainly had nasty behavior protocols. And anything mass-produced, as apparently they had been, would have made budget cuts somewhere. Their armor and defense was weak. In two minutes Darden had cut the other two down.

She examined one's mechanisms and behavior cores, but could not find any clue as to who kept sending these droids after her, or who was making them. "We really have to go," she told Kreia. "I hadn't realized how quickly they would track me. If they're here, how long before the Sith and the big Exchange bosses are on us?"

"You speak the truth. We must hope the _Ebon Hawk _has indeed been hidden here."

"They said this was the remnants of the Telosian polar irrigation system?" Darden said. "Maybe there's a door someplace?"

"Way ahead of you," Atton called from several meters away. "Right here—there's a door into the bank."

"Help me with Bao-Dur—it's freezing out here."

Shivering in the cold—Kreia, despite her abhorrence of anything 'physical', was turning blue beneath her hood—Darden and her companions made their way to the door of the Telosian irrigation system. The door was unlocked. Kreia opened it for Atton and Darden, bearing Bao-Dur.

The warmth was delicious. If Darden had had any doubts about the lead Bao-Dur had given them, they vanished immediately. This place was inhabited. The door closed behind them, and Atton and Darden lay Bao-Dur down to get a look around.

They had staggered forward a few steps, when the lights came up. They were surrounded by women. Six—seven of them. They were all clad in white hooded tunics and white pants, and bearing long, lethally sharp electrified spears. Their hair was silvery, their eyes icy blue. Echani.

"Lay down your weapons and you shall not be harmed," one said.

Darden's response was actually to shift so the vibroblade on her back was more accessible. "Who are you? What is this place?"

The one who had spoken before narrowed her eyes. "I will not warn you again. Drop your weapons or we shall take them from you."

Kreia stepped closer to Darden. "Do as they say," she muttered. "I sense we will come to no harm."

Darden was uneasy, but she drew her blaster and swung off her vibroblade and laid them on the ground with her pack. Kreia laid down her vibroblade, and Atton, more slowly than the others, but following Darden's lead, did the same with his blaster.

"We'll play along for now," Darden addressed the speaker. "Don't lose them." She stepped away from her weapons. One of the other women nodded, and two of them came forward to flank Darden.

"Come with us. The mistress wishes to speak with you, exile," said one.

Darden was suddenly very, very uncomfortable. "Exile? But—" She looked over her shoulder to see four other Echani had taken positions around Kreia and Atton, hindering them.

One of Darden's guards lowered her spear a few centimeters, pointing it at her.

"We will not tell you again," she said. "Now come."

And Darden was led away from her friends towards some strange 'mistress' who knew her as 'exile'. Someone who knew exactly who she was, and who she had been.

* * *

TELOSIAN IRRIGATION SYSTEM, MAIN CHAMBER

When the ghost women from nowhere had led Darden away to their 'mistress', whoever _that _was, Atton had almost gone after her. Sure, Darden was a Jedi, but she was still weak on the whole Force thing, at least, that was his impression. And with her weapons gone, in with some lady that more likely than not wanted to kill her—

But the old witch had said nothing bad would happen, and Atton figured there was no point in starting a fight before they had to. Still, when the ghost women had led him and Kreia to force cages, Atton kind of regretted not fighting. They brought that Bao-Dur guy in a few minutes later. His arm was working again and his head had been bandaged, but he was still out. The ghost women didn't care. They chucked him in a force cage, too, and then left without a word.

Atton didn't kick the cage, even though he wanted to. Didn't really want to electrocute himself. He'd done that a couple times on Peragus.

He had had more action in a week with Darden Leona than he had had in years on his own, or in all the months he had spent piloting for those smugglers that'd left him on Peragus. It was no wonder, of course. General Darden Leona of Malachor V infamy. Atton was a little annoyed he hadn't put it together before, but then he'd never fought under her, and he hadn't had much use back then for the ones that had stopped fighting after the war. Knowing what he did now, maybe she'd done the right thing. Still, it was no wonder she never liked to talk about it. No wonder she was a little—or very—insane.

If he had any sense at all he'd jump ship now. Assuming the _Ebon Hawk_ was here and Darden found them some back way out of this mess, he bet that she'd drop him off anywhere he wanted and pick up another pilot. He'd even help her find one crazy and decent enough to help her out. Someone that wouldn't cheat her. Hmm. He'd really better not ask to go to Nar Shadaa, then, Exchange aside, even.

Atton shifted in his Force cage, suddenly angry. It's not like he had asked to get mixed up with the Jedi. It's not like he had ever wanted Darden Leona to come blasting her way into his life in her underwear with half the galaxy behind her. The last thing he needed was to get mixed up in a galaxy-wide ship chase with a crazy ex-Jedi with a habit of blowing up planets and an ugly old witch, especially if the Sith were making a comeback.

But if he didn't know any better he'd think that he was starting to get as crazy as _she_ was. Because despite all the best reasons to leave, to get seven systems away from Darden Leona and anything to do with her, Atton was already thinking up ways to get those women with spears to let him out of the force cage when they came back so he could get back to her. He was already thinking up planets he could fly her to where she could get lost, hide for a few weeks or months. He was worrying like he cared about what was happening to her now.

He was intensely aware that there was no space to move, no space to pace in the cage. "Why is it that everywhere we go I end up in a cell?" he burst out. "I mean, why did they lock us up? What is this place?"

The old lady actually answered him. Quite calmly she said, "It is a training ground for Jedi."

Atton stopped. "What? This ice hole?"

Kreia nodded, looking around at the high ceiling and the spartan furnishings. "Yes, it bears the semblance of an academy. Did you not see when they led us in? But where are all the students? Curious."

If anything, Atton was only made more anxious by this. "You've got to be joking. What is a Jedi Academy doing out here in the middle of nowhere?"

"It is a place hidden from the galaxy," Kreia said absently, thinking hard. "Like the Academy on Dantooine. But this place…" Suddenly her mouth turned up. "Oh, Atris," she whispered. "You have been clever."

"Atris?" Atton asked.

Darden had told him the hag didn't like to answer questions, and Kreia had had enough of his. "It's none of your concern," she said coolly.

Atton bounced on the balls of his feet, once again wishing to move, to be able to do anything. "Well the sooner we're outta here the better," he muttered. "Two crazy Jedi are more than enough for me. No one told me we were going to be dumped in a nest of Jedi." Jedi were almost as bad as Sith in Atton's book. He started eyeing the door, wondering if the ghost women had locked it.

"And what is it about this place that causes you such fear?" Kreia asked, sounding suddenly interested in what he had to say.

Atton stared at her. "What do you mean? We're in the middle of a bunch of Jedi. You know how they are."

"No, I do not," the old woman said slowly, focusing on him with an intensity he didn't like. "Not in the way you seem to." And then she was there with him. Atton felt her alien presence in his mind, digging through with sharp, cold mental claws.

"What—what are you doing?" he cried. "Get out of my head!"

He tried to call up wrath, or fantasies about Darden, or count pazaak cards, but it was too late. She was already in. He tried to build a wall like they had talked about years ago—but Kreia seized on to that thought, delving ever deeper into Atton's mind.

"Stop struggling. Let me follow the current. Deep…deeper…to its source."

It hurt having her in his head. Everything she saw he felt and saw, too, and some of it he'd spent years trying to forget. "Stop! St—"Images burst before his eyes with the same potency they'd had six years ago. He felt the feelings he had felt then with the added crippling shame of the knowledge of what they had led to, and what they had meant. The sick pleasure, the misplaced pride, the horrible, horrible ignorance, and that blinding, terrible revelation of his true self and his ultimate doom. Atton Rand felt it all, and he held onto the name he had given himself as a lifeline in the sea of pain and humiliation as his mind and past was ruthlessly rifled through. Kreia saw it all. Atton felt the violation, the anger at the invasion, but above that he felt fear. What if Darden saw it, too? What if Kreia told her? If she knew who he had been, what he had done-

Atton heard the old woman's voice in his head and in the room. "Ah—with the fear is mingled guilt. It squirms in you like a worm. And the why…ah. There is its heart." She withdrew, finally, and Atton fell to his knees on the bottom of the force cage, holding his head in his hands. "You surprise me—"Kreia said, looking at him like he was an insect at the toe of her boot. "I could not feel it before. Your feelings are a powerful shield, indeed. Do not worry, 'Atton'," she said, mocking him. "If she is a Jedi, she will forgive. And if she is not, she will not care."

"You can't tell Darden—"Atton gasped. "Please! I'm asking you. I don't want her to—"

"—think less of you?" Kreia finished for him, cruelly amused. "I hardly think that's possible. Still, there is no shame in what you ask. We all wage war with the past and it leaves its scars. I will not speak of yours, Atton, but there is a price for such things."

Atton staggered to his feet, more afraid than ever, but he'd be damned if the old hag would see him on his knees again. "What? What price?" he demanded, managing with a great effort to keep his voice steady, though his mind still ached with the remembered pain of the intrusion it had suffered.

Her withered lips curled contemptuously. "There are those who wage war, and those that follow them. You are a crude thing, murderer, but you have your uses. You know how important this woman we travel with is—even one such as you can feel it. You will serve her…until I release you."

Atton stared at her, wondering what she was playing at. Kreia had been in his head. If she didn't know there was more than a good chance that he'd go with Darden anyway, help her out as best he could—even if she hadn't seen that, hadn't been looking for it, he'd more than shown his hand just now and she was banking on it with this demand. He didn't like this. It made something he would've done out of insanity into something he was being forced into. Worse, it put him under the twisted witch's thumb. A cold stone of hatred dropped into Atton's stomach. He'd disliked her before, but now—"And if I refuse?" he asked, slowly.

"You will not," she said. "If you do, my silence will be broken. And then, Atton, you will be broken. You fear the Jedi and rightly so. If Atris learns of your…choices…you will never leave this place. But whatever fear you hold of the Jedi, know that if you disobey me, that my punishment will make you beg for the death that has long hounded you."

She had him in a corner and she knew it. She smirked. "Wipe the fear from your mind," she said silkily. "You will not find blind obedience a difficult Master. You chose it once. You will learn to embrace it again."

He wouldn't. And never blind obedience to _her_. But she _had_ him. For sure he didn't want to die here in this ice hole in the middle of nowhere, but if she spoke of _breaking_ him, she hadn't needed to threaten him with this Atris, or some vicious ambiguous punishment worse than death. She knew what he was. He knew what he was. But he couldn't take it if Darden knew. Now—he knew Darden thought he was annoying, thought he was callous, sometimes. But she'd said she trusted him. She talked to him, sometimes, seemed to respect his opinion. But if she knew, she would _hate_ him, if she didn't kill him outright. And—Atton shook his head. "I don't know how you became such a manipulative witch," he spat at Kreia. "But why a vicious old scow like yourself would even bother with me is a bigger mystery."

She shrugged. "No game of dejarik can be won without pawns," she said. "And this may prove to be a very long game. You are a slippery one, your thoughts difficult for even one such as I to read. I suspect the self-loathing that squirms within you gives you a curious strength. Your spirit, as diseased as it is, refuses to allow you to give up, no matter what threats you face and whatever wreckage you leave behind you." She paused, then added, "I feel you have crossed our path for a reason. Perhaps even you, at the right moment, may be able to turn aside disaster. If so, your potential is not yet spent."

Atton smiled self-mockingly. Yeah, if there were two things he was good at it was dodging trouble and keeping Force-users out of his head. Hadn't done him much good in the end, had it? Kreia had broken into his head anyway and here he was in what might be more trouble than he'd ever been in in his life. Nevertheless, he started counting cards again. He was determined that what had happened just now would never happen again. Not that Kreia would need to break in again. She had what she wanted. "Fine. I'll be your pawn," he snapped. "But I still think you've got the wrong man."

"Perhaps," she said, turning away now. "But someone has to fly the ship. And the Force is a hard thing to predict. You have crossed our path for a reason. Our path brought us here for a reason. And now I know why. The past is here, and it must be met before the future can be set in motion."

She was talking about Darden now. "More Jedi speak. Care to explain?"

Kreia clenched her fist, and Atton fell to the bottom of the Force cage, thinking, his new 'master' really _didn't _like questions. And then he was asleep.

* * *

TELOSIAN IRRIGATION SYSTEM, THE OLD RESERVOIR

Her Echani guards stood back at the exit, and Darden was left to walk the bridge over what seemed to have been an old water reservoir alone. The HK-50 droids were right. This had clearly been some planetary irrigation system, once, like the one they had on Coruscant. The well went down for miles. Darden thought she could see water still down in it, but it was so far down it might have just been darkness. The Echani guards had led her through a few rooms. The irrigation system was being put to a different use these days. She'd seen combat training mats, statues. It looked like an imitation Jedi Academy. Rough. But serviceable. But Darden hadn't seen anyone other than the Echani. At all.

Except now, 'mistress' was walking across the bridge from the other side. Darden felt very cold again. How appropriate to find Atris in the polar region, she thought. Her curiously unlined face and ice blue eyes were hard as they looked Darden over. Darden went to meet her in the center.

"I did not expect to see you again after the day of your sentencing," Atris said crisply. "I thought you had taken the exile's path, wandering the galaxy. Yet you have returned—why?"

Two things were immediately clear to Darden. First, that the _Ebon Hawk_ was undoubtedly here, and second, that Atris had stolen it for the sole purpose of arranging this meeting. "No," she said, quietly. "Your servants took me away from my friends. You tell me where they are first. Bao-Dur was hurt."

Atris looked hard at her. "Your concern is noted. Your friends have not been harmed. They have been detained for their safety. I find it…unusual…that you are traveling with others again. I had thought you had forsaken the company of others after the war. Or is that why you are here?"

Darden snorted. "What, that I started traveling with others again and thought I'd look you up? Atris, you know damn well why I'm here and it wasn't because I wanted to see you."

"Yet here you are," Atris said, and her voice had cooled another fifty degrees or so. "Perhaps you do not know yourself as well as you think. Regardless, your arrival here begs an explanation. Have you come to face the judgment of the Council, as you did so many years ago? Are you finally willing to admit that we were right to cast you out?"

Darden stared at her, bewildered, and getting angrier by the second. "Have you been waiting to hear it? You won't get to. The Council was wrong to cast me out; they were wrong to condemn me for going to war. The Council wanted to assess the threat while people were dying by the millions."

Atris' pale cheeks flushed with the faintest red. "So you said, so long ago. I didn't believe it then and I don't believe it now. You sought adventure. You hungered for battle. You could not wait to follow Revan to war. The Jedi Order asked only for time to examine the Mandalorian threat. They urged caution, patience. You defied them. So when you returned you were brought before us. You were a Jedi no longer, and so you were exiled."

Darden shook her head, wondering how Atris dared. "What is a Jedi Knight?" she demanded. "We were supposed to teach, we were supposed to protect. It's easy for you to sit down here and condemn me, easy for you to say I lusted for battle. You weren't there, Atris! You didn't see it, and you didn't live it. The war was hell and I hated every minute of it. Every second! I went to protect the defenseless. And on that day when I returned to answer for it you wanted me imprisoned or worse."

Atris was staring at her in anger that had not dimmed over ten years. "There was much about that day that is difficult to forget—"she said in a loud, ringing voice. "Your words. Your defiance. And when you stabbed your lightsaber into the center stone. I have kept it, so I would never forget!"

With that she plunged her hand into her white robe and drew forth a lightsaber, activating it. Darden's own silvery blue blade slid out. Darden looked at it, and all the pain and sorrow of the Wars came back, both what she had seen done and what she had done herself. All the injustice and anger she had felt when she had tried to do the right thing afterwards and the Jedi Council had met her gesture of reconciliation only with rejection. And _Atris _held _her_ lightsaber now!

"It wasn't your right!"

"I have always kept it," Atris said, smiling oddly, "As a reminder of what can happen when your passions dictate your actions. I have kept it, so I would never forget your arrogance or your insult to the Order."

And all at once, things realigned in Darden's head, and she wasn't angry anymore. She knew why she had done what she had done, and she realized for the first time that she would do it again if it meant protecting others, fighting for what was right. Darden Leona stood before Master Atris, formally of the Jedi Council, and realized that though she had destroyed worlds and condemned hundreds and thousands of her own soldiers to death, though she would always carry that guilt with her and might never again be assured of sleeping soundly, she had not carried a memento of her anger all these years. She had not taken revenge and she was not the one standing on the bridge with hatred and delusion in her mind and heart.

So when she answered Atris, she did so quietly. "It isn't arrogance to defy what is wrong. I didn't insult the Order, only what the Order had become. And that day I was the only one that retained enough respect for the Jedi to return. To be exiled, after that—"

At this, Atris nodded. "I am not unsympathetic to your feelings. It must have been difficult for you to leave the Order. But you gave the Council no other choice. You gave me no other choice."

Darden heard the emphasis on the personal, heard the delusion Atris had been living under all these years, and how it had been tormenting her. She gestured at the lightsaber Atris still held unsheathed. "With that lightsaber, I defended the weak and upheld the right."

Atris' eyes flashed. "Your choice was to meet the aggression of the Mandalorians with more aggression!" she retorted. "That is not the Jedi way!"

"The Jedi were abandoning their sworn responsibilities," Darden replied firmly. "I and the others that went to war saved the Republic. We kept worlds safe!" With every word she grew more certain of herself.

"There was no guarantee that marching to war would have saved the Outer Rim," Atris argued. "In fact, quite the opposite."

"You're right there was no guarantee we would win when we left," Darden answered. "We almost didn't. Believe me, I know. But if we hadn't gone, the Mandalorians would rule the Republic. What would a government under them have looked like, Atris? With their contempt for the weak and everlasting desire to test themselves against oblivion?"

"Perhaps the Mandalorians would have won the physical victory," Atris conceded grudgingly. Quickly she added, "But the real victory lay in th—"

Darden cut her off. "—In the triumph of pacifism? In the surrender to enslavement and or obliteration and tacit compliance in the massacre of worlds?"

"Do not twist my words!" Atris snapped. "A physical victory is not the only victory. Or the only loss."

Darden shook her head. "You can say that because the Republic still stands. But what if it had fallen?"

She was getting to her. Atris had taken a step back. Her cheeks were definitely flushed. "You do not kno—"

Darden stopped her again. "If the Mandalorians had won, Atris, would the Council have deemed it appropriate to fight then? Or would they have merely sat in their towers and meditated on the ramifications of a Mandalorian-run galaxy?"

Atris half-raised Darden's old lightsaber. "How dare you!" she cried passionately. "The Mandalorian Wars should have been your grave and Malachor V is where you should have died!"

Darden stood very still. She let Atris hear the sound of her words as they echoed through the reservoir chamber. Then, slowly, she nodded. "I agree with you," she said, very quietly. "I wish I had, every day. But I didn't think that you would say so. You are, after all, a _proper_ Jedi. Atris, it's been ten years. I know why _I_ still see Malachor every night. I know why I wake up sobbing in the dark. I know my own solitude; I know my own anger at the injustice done to me when the Council cast me out—"

Atris' eyes flashed with triumph, she opened her mouth, but Darden had anticipated her. She held up a hand.

"Don't tell me anger is of the Dark Side while you stand there with my lightsaber in your hand throwing ten year old accusations at me! I'm an Exile. You and the Council made sure of that. I don't follow the Jedi way anymore—there isn't a Jedi way to follow now, anyway. But I also know I'm not the only one standing here that hasn't come to terms with what happened then. Tell me, how long have you hidden here hating me for what I did, fearing me, and fearing your own confusion?"

Atris took another step back and she shut off the lightsaber and thrust it back in her robe. "You see shadows where there are none, and hate where there is none," she said. "You are blind, as always."

Darden took a step towards her. "Somehow, I don't think so, Atris."

Atris held up a hand. "Enough! I tire of—fighting with you. You lust for war and you always will. And you have succeeded in distracting me from my original questions. If you have not seen the truth, have not repented, why have you come here?"

Darden looked hard at her. "I didn't want to come here. Unfortunately, somebody stole my ship. If you give it back, I can leave."

Atris suddenly took on a more calculating expression. "Your ship? Ah, the _Ebon Hawk_? It is not your ship. Unless you are admitting to the destruction of the Peragus mining facility."

"Are you admitting to stealing the _Ebon Hawk_?" Darden retorted.

"The _Ebon Hawk_ is here," Atris said. "Its records and navicomputer are being dissected to determine what caused the destruction of the Peragus facility."

Darden shook her head. "Good luck with the navicomputer. You'll need it." It had been voice-locked by someone else before she'd got the ship. The Peragus techs hadn't been able to break in. Atton and Darden hadn't been able to break in, despite their best efforts. It was one of a couple of things that puzzled Darden about the ship, the other being the broken down HK droid in the storage compartment—an older model than the HK-50 units that had been chasing her around. She didn't mention this to Atris, though.

"We are having some trouble with the navicomputer," Atris admitted. "But I think with your cooperation—willing or otherwise—that will cease to be an obstacle. If it is your ship, perhaps I should be questioning you as to what happened—and why you destroyed the facility and murdered all the miners there."

The speech showed Darden again just how messed up Atris was. It was illogical, desperate to find Darden in the light Atris viewed her. She didn't oblige the former Council member. "I cannot answer that question because it presupposes things that never happened," she said. "All the miners were dead when the facility was destroyed, dead when I woke up in the med bay."

Atris raised a brow in cold disbelief. "A facility of over one hundred and fifty personnel, all dead before you awakened? A childish story to mask your crime. And with the facility destroyed, you think there is no way to confirm your story. But I will pry the truth from you, I promise you that."

Darden shrugged. "Actually, the truth of my story has already been confirmed, both by the TSF and the Republic. Of course, you wouldn't know, hiding illegally down here. But if you asked them, I'm sure they could give you the evidence you're looking for. Except you don't want it. Not really. You just want a way to convict me."

"You convict yourself with every word you speak," Atris snapped. "You insist that I hold anger towards you, that I am eager to condemn, but all I seek is that the truth of your crimes be made known and just punishment be dealt."

"You cannot find a truth that doesn't exist," Darden said. Then she sighed. "The _Ebon Hawk_ isn't yours, Atris. Return it."

"Again, you insist that it is your ship," Atris said. "But it has had many owners, a fact of which I am sure you are aware. You have no claim over it—even if you did, the destruction you have already caused demands that you be tried and punished for what you have done."

"The destruction of Peragus was an accident," Darden snapped, "And it wasn't even _my_ accident."

"Ah," Atris said, folding her arms. "An accident. Something beyond your control. You have not changed. Acting instead of thinking. Putting yourself before the galaxy, before the Jedi. Do you know what you have done?"

"I caused nothing," Darden said levelly. "I did nothing except be present. Telos is in jeopardy. The entire Republic reconstructive initiative is in jeopardy. I _know_. If I had a _ship_, I could go look for an alternative source of fuel for Citadel Station, among other things."

Atris still did not hear her. "Without fuel, Citadel Station cannot maintain its orbit," she said wrathfully. "It will crash into the planet, and its destruction will echo across twenty other worlds. Telos was a test, to see if the Republic could mount a restoration effort on the Outer Rim. When it fails, they will not finance another. The other Rim Worlds devastated by the Sith will remain graveyard worlds, devoid of life. And that is the magnitude of your crime."

Darden leaned back on her right leg. "Wow, it's almost as bad as the Jedi letting the Outer Rim die during the Mandalorian Wars," she said lazily.

"So you still hold to your flawed convictions," Atris said. "If you think to anger me, you are wrong. How is it that you are not content to confine your ruin to yourself—you must spread it to others, wherever you go? Ruin yourself with your actions if you will, but when your actions bring harm to others then you must answer for it."

Darden sighed. "No, you are not angered. You are already angry. You have been angry for so long that you aren't listening to me. Atris. I did not destroy Peragus. The Sith did."

Atris stopped short in the middle of another retort. "The Sith?" she said sharply. "What do you mean?"

Darden stood up straight again, relieved that something had at last got through. "The Sith came for me on Peragus. They tried to kill me. I escaped on the _Ebon Hawk_. All the miners were already dead. The Sith pursued, and firing after me, hit and ignited the Peragus asteroid field. It was an accident. Not mine."

Atris concentrated for a moment. Darden felt the Jedi Master going over her words with the Force, assessing them for honesty. "You speak truly," Atris said at last, wonderingly. "You have encountered the Sith. I can feel the scars on you. And you encountered them on Peragus? But what would they want there? They can't have been looking for _you_."

Darden snorted. "Tell them that. They apparently didn't get the memo that 'I walk the exile's path'. They think I'm the last of the Jedi."

Atris' eyes narrowed. "If you were the best target they could find, the teachings of the Dark Side blind the Sith indeed. I am the last Jedi, not you. You betrayed our teachings, our beliefs…the very core of the Jedi Order. If these Sith attacked you, they will soon realize their mistake. And if you escaped…they most likely let you go, to see if you would lead them here."

"I think they blew themselves up trying to kill me, actually," Darden said. "Well—I think the Sith Lord might have gotten away. Don't underestimate them, though, Atris. They fight differently than the Sith from the Jedi Civil War, I'm told, and that Sith Lord I met might not be the only one."

Atris sniffed. "Whatever force they bring to bear, it will matter not—if they face a true Jedi, they shall fall."

Darden almost groaned aloud. She did pace in a tight little circle. Unknown numbers of Sith, and this was the only Jedi in all the galaxy? "Look, are you sure there aren't any survivors from the Civil War?" she asked Atris. "Any Jedi other than you?"

Atris' face fell, and her eyes grew sad. "I said I was the last of the Jedi, exile, and I did not speak falsely. There are others who were once Jedi, but no longer. They will not take action against this threat."

Darden nodded. Once-Jedi were better than no-Jedi. After all, she was an ex-Jedi and she wanted to do something about this. "We can work with that," she said. "If you have any idea, any whispers of where these once-Jedi are, or were, I can find them. Give me my ship back, and I can track them down. Change their minds."

Atris blinked. "You…you offer your aid? After turning your back on me…on the council?" She paused. "The Jedi way is not something you embrace out of fear. The commitment is stronger than that, something you never seemed to understand."

Darden took a deep breath. "I am not getting into this with you again, Atris. This isn't about me being afraid. This is about a threat that needs to be dealt with, and this is me, offering to help you."

Atris seemed to consider it, then she nodded. "If you help me it cannot be done from here," she agreed. "There are others in the galaxy who may help us against a Sith threat. If you can find them, gain their trust, perhaps our defenses shall be stronger for it. Take your ship, seek them out. If you find them, encourage them to gather on Dantooine—from there, we can call a council and see what may be done."

Darden bowed. It wasn't much to go on, but it was more than she had had before. "If there is anyone who can aid us, I will find them," she promised.

Atris gave another frosty nod. "Then I shall send you on your way," she said. She clapped her hands, and the two Echani guards at the entrance to the reservoir came forward with a third woman—the one that had hailed Darden and her companions upon her entrance into the irrigation system. "It is now time for you to depart," Atris told Darden.

"We shall remove her, mistress," said the third woman. To Darden she added, "Come with us." Darden looked at her, curious. The other two guards looked exactly alike, from their noses to the spacing of their eyes to the way they carried themselves. But this one—this speaker—she looked different. It was subtle. Her silvery hair was still cropped short, her eyes were still icy blue, and she still wore the same white uniform and carried the same spear. But her lips were just a little bit fuller. Her nose was just a little bit longer and her eyes just a little wider-set. She was a little shorter, a little fuller-figured than the others. And her expression was not so contemptuous, but more—curious.

Darden started back with the Echani handmaidens towards the main irrigation facility, but the different one hung back on the bridge.

* * *

TELOSIAN IRRIGATION SYSTEM, MAIN CHAMBER

Bao-Dur woke up, dazed. His head was throbbing. He put his hand up to the back of his skull and winced, deciding he'd better not. Then he sat up, and gave a sharp cry. His shoulder had hit the force cage energy field, and it had shocked him. Force cage? Where was he? Last thing he'd known, he'd been in a shuttle with the General—then something had hit them—had hit him.

Bao-Dur looked around and down, noticing his arm had been powered up. Whoever had done that obviously didn't know what it did, or they would have also known that the force cage wouldn't do them any good. He took another look at the cage and blinked. Creative. It actually wasn't a cage, or it hadn't always been. Unless he was mistaken—and he very rarely was—this had once been a particle emitter. Used to control water flow, judging by the design. Were they in some sort of irrigation facility, then?

He looked over to his left and saw two of the others—the General's pilot, Atton, and the old woman, Kreia—also in force cages. Kreia was sitting cross-legged on the floor, but Atton looked like he was out cold. "What's going on?" Bao-Dur asked. "What's happened? Where's the General?"

He half-raised his arm to short-circuit the cage and break out, but Kreia held up a hand. "She is safe, Iridonian, and will arrive for us shortly. Do not trouble yourself."

She explained briefly that they had crashed on the polar mesa and been captured by the ones that had taken the _Ebon Hawk_—that their leader had wanted to speak to the General and they had been detained until she had done so, but they were in no immediate danger, nor was the General. After that she would say nothing further.

Bao-Dur didn't press her, but he didn't break out of his cage, either. He'd lost his vibroblade in the crash, or it had been taken from him, and in the shape he was in, even if he got out, he couldn't do the General much good. His remote hovered above his head, so that was something, at least.

Bao-Dur frowned. He could've done the General some good, if he hadn't been knocked out in the crash with Atton. If she had had more than just the old woman at her disposal, maybe she wouldn't have been captured. He could have hardly helped the crash—it had felt like they'd been shot down—but he still felt like he had failed Darden.

He'd forgotten how she'd inspired them, all of them who had fought in the war. How she had inspired him. She hadn't lost any of her influence. He'd heard those mercs down outside the base. She had fixed in three days what he'd been trying to fix for months. Czerka was on the way out; the Restoration Project was back in the hands of the Ithorians and it would be back on track in a matter of weeks. The Sith were after her, and the Exchange, and she was still planning on taking time out to look for a new source of fuel for Citadel Station.

Bao-Dur thought—he thought he might want to help her. His shield network was up and running; Telos had the technology now. And something told him that what General Darden Leona was up to now just might be more important, and for sure she could use a lot of help.

And sure, he thought, why not admit it? It was good to be working for the General again. It was good to watch her brilliance and have her there making plans. It was good, because she seemed to have found some sort of direction, to have started making some sort of sense out of everything. More than he'd found or made, anyway. And she understood.

The door opened, then, and she walked in. Bao-Dur stood, but she didn't look at him first. So, like a good soldier, he waited to be addressed by his commanding officer.

The old lady was not a good soldier. She stood, too, and asked, "Did you find what you came for?"

The corner of the General's mouth twitched. "That depends. What do you think I was supposed to find here, Kreia?"

Kreia pretended he wasn't there, that she and the General were the only ones in the room. Bao-Dur didn't know the old lady very well, but he guessed that as far as she was concerned, those were the only two in the room that mattered. "There was something from your past here," she said. "Something unresolved. I feel we did not come to this place by chance—you were led here. This woman who resides here—she did something to you once. Something that hangs upon you still?"

Darden looked at him, then, and for a moment, Bao-Dur thought she wouldn't answer Kreia. But then she seemed to decide something, and she replied, "Upon her more than me, I think, for all I was the one that ended up exiled. Still, she's not exactly charming."

Bao-Dur trained his eyes upon the floor. It was easy to forget from the way that the General carried herself that she was different from him, that way. The guilt, the consequences he had faced after the war were all self-imposed. Hers were not.

Kreia said, "Whatever her charm, or lack thereof, you must deal with it. Unresolved events from our past can create wounds in the present, and the future. And more importantly, they can distract you. Weaken you. It could prove fatal against the enemies we face."

"She's a Jedi. Atris. She was one of the Council that exiled me."

Kreia sniffed. "There is a Jedi here, perhaps. In that you are correct. Yet there are no students, and this woman, this Atris, surrounds herself with those who cannot feel the Force. Curious."

The General frowned thoughtfully. "The Handmaidens. I talked to one of them to find out where you were. They seem sure that Atris is going to heal the galaxy and rebuild the Order. Me? I think she ought to heal herself, first. I knew the Handmaidens weren't students, but you're telling me they can't even feel the Force?"

"Yes, her servants are not Jedi. Their minds are walls, trained to resist tricks of the mind. Their discipline blinds them to the Force as well, even if they were Force Sensitive."

At this remark, the General's face went carefully, cautiously blank. Bao-Dur remembered that face, from the war. It was the one she always wore when someone told her about a new attack the Mandalorians had made and she was wondering how to respond. Then she asked, slowly, "Kreia—how would you know about the minds of the women here? Have you been in their heads?"

Kreia's mouth quirked in her force cage, and she spread her arms. "Invade the mind of another? It is not something done carelessly…or when there is nothing to be gained."

The General's eyes narrowed, and that was when Bao-Dur realized that though they were traveling together, Darden Leona didn't trust, or even like, the old woman acting as her teacher, and his resolve cemented to go with her. "Let's talk about it on the way out of here," Darden said.

Kreia nodded. "Very well. Let us depart."

Just then, two cages over, Atton groaned and started to come to. The General looked over and paled. "Bao-Dur was knocked out in the crash—nice to see you're up again, by the way. But what happened to Atton, Kreia? He's out cold."

"He wasn't knocked out in the crash?" Bao-Dur asked.

"No," The General told him. She pressed the lever to release the force cages and went over to Atton. "And the Handmaiden I talked to said he didn't give them any trouble, so…?"

She knelt beside him and picked up his wrist, feeling for a pulse.

"He is only sleeping," Kreia said smoothly. Too smoothly. "It seems the journey here has fatigued him."

The General looked at the old woman sharply even as Bao-Dur did. She hadn't said anything to him about what had happened to Atton, but he was almost positive she was lying. The General didn't say anything, though. She just shook Atton. "Get up, Atton. It's time to go."

He groaned again and started to sit up. And then the General walked over to Bao-Dur. She clapped him on the back and looked inquiringly at the back of his head.

"I'm sorry I lost consciousness in the crash, General," he said, glad she'd come over.

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it. Nothing to be sorry for. We all have bad days now and then, right? Are you going to be okay?"

He smiled at her, touched by her concern. "I'm fine, General. Even power has been restored to my arm. This place—we're beneath the polar mesa?"

"Yeah," she answered. "Atris—that Jedi Master we were talking about—she decided she'd set up a secret Jedi Academy down here in the old irrigation system."

"This must be where I had detected the energy readings before—and the drain to the restoration shields," Bao-Dur said, a little bit annoyed that this Jedi woman had been stealing from the Restoration Project. "This room—this place—the system's supposed to be planet wide, like the one on Coruscant. I had been told by the Republic that it was not in use."

The General shrugged. "I don't think the Republic knows. But on the bright side, the Sith don't know, either. Look, are you ready to go? They don't like me here."

"I am," he told her. "General—I'd like to help you out, if I can. If your ship is here, I can prepare it to leave."

Darden looked hard at him, then she smiled slowly. "I'd like that," she said. "Sure. I'm going to need all the help I can get in the next few months, I think. Yeah. The ship's here. Just north and east, or so I've been told. I'll see you there."

Bao-Dur felt suddenly, for the first time in years, like he belonged somewhere. He smiled back at General Darden Leona, and saluted. "Very well, General."

Darden gave him a quizzical look, but returned the salute nonetheless, and added a wave, and Bao-Dur left to get her ship ready to leave.

* * *

DARDEN

Atton had just regained his feet when Bao-Dur left. Darden went back over to him. She didn't exactly know what to think about Atton, given recent events, but she was glad he seemed to be uninjured, at any rate.

He was rubbing his head and his eyes were kind of dazed looking, though. He looked like he had been drugged, or hit over the head very hard. It was strange, because the handmaiden Darden had asked for directions had said they hadn't harmed her friends. Finally, though, his eyes managed to focus on Darden. He smiled crookedly. "Ergh—hey you're back with us. We were just on our way to rescue you from those ghost women, when…uh, we got locked up."

Two hours ago Darden might have laughed at that. Kreia was strong in the Force, but she was an old woman for all that, and the Echani warriors here had been specifically trained to watch and deal with Jedi. And Bao-Dur had been unconscious. She knew Atton was a good shot, even knew that he might be good with hand fighting, due to the tussle with the assassin in the TSF office. But two hours ago she wouldn't have given the slightest credence to a statement that implied that Atton and Kreia alone and unarmed could rescue her from seven Echani warrior women. But that was before she had talked to the handmaiden, and she had affirmed, in a by-the-way manner, what Darden had once thought she was only imagining. Now the statement rang more true than a lot of things Atton Rand said.

Darden forced a smile. "Yeah. Jails seem to like you for some reason. But hey, thanks. If I ever need you to rescue me with that Echani training I'll give you a call."

"Echani training?" Kreia repeated.

Something really was wrong. It took him almost two seconds to get it. Then he said, "What?" very, very quietly.

Darden swung her pack down over her shoulder and pretended to fiddle with the contents. "You dropped into an Echani combat stance when Atris' handmaidens met us at the entrance, took our weapons, and started to take me away. They saw you. I didn't, but I've seen it once before—in the Exchange suites on Citadel. Thought I'd imagined it. Guess I didn't. These women have spent their entire lives learning those forms." She paused, shrugged. "It's weird, though. Only non-Echani I can think of that learn that stuff are special forces. Covert ops. Where'd you pick it up?"

As she'd spoken Atton's eyes had started tracking again. With every word he'd listened more carefully, and as she finished he smiled, then laughed. "The stance at the entrance? Don't tell anyone, but you wouldn't believe how many fights you can prevent just by pretending to know that stuff. I mean, it doesn't compare to wearing a lightsaber, but then again, look at what happened to yours." He laughed again, and it was a harsh sound. "C'mon, sweetheart. Special ops. Me?"

Darden looked at him. Atton didn't exhibit any of the usual liar's tells. He was holding her gaze without looking away. He wasn't shifting or twitching anywhere, and his entire body was relaxed. If she hadn't been able to sense his fear in the Force, hadn't felt the edge in his voice that was usually directed at the situation or whoever was trying to kill them and not at her, she might have bought it. Considering that she could hear the edge, though, and could feel the fear, Darden knew she had hit on something big. "You're a very good liar," she told him. "Really, well done. Kind of sad you've needed the practice. But you don't have to lie to me, you know that?"

_Now_ he went stiff. _Now_ his eyes darkened and he suddenly looked much taller and much more forbidding. "So what if I'm lying?" he demanded. "So what if I am, 'General'? I don't ask any dumb questions about your past, despite the fact that it keeps throwing us into life-threatening situations." He let that echo in the air for a moment, then he added, "You want to know why? I figure if you ever want to tell me something, you will. So give me the same respect, all right?"

Oh, it really _was _something big, then. Darden felt a rush of self-loathing. It simply hadn't occurred to her that Atton could be other than what he appeared—a sarcastic, pazaak playing, line-dropping pilot-for-hire out of a job with no love for the law and a knack both for landing in trouble and for getting out again. She'd decided to trust that man, though she still had been making up her mind whether she liked him or not. Now it seemed he might be someone else entirely, and Darden realized how little she actually knew of Atton Rand. _How self-absorbed have I been? _she wondered.

She nodded, then, and threw her pack back over her shoulder. "You got it. I don't want any dirty little secrets, though it seems you've figured out mine."

"Some secret," Atton snorted.

"Yes, well, I blew up a planet and thousands of people—Mandalorians and my own forces," she said bitterly. "No matter how much I'd like to forget it, that sort of thing tends to follow a person around. I don't like to talk about it, so it's not fair for me to ask you to talk about something you might not like to remember, either."

She shrugged and went over to the storage cylinder in the corner of the room. She drew out Kreia's vibroblade and Atton's blaster and handed them back. "I know you're helping me, not hurting me," she told Atton, "So I won't push it. It would've been hard to put you in deep cover in a force cage in a dead facility destroyed by an HK-50 droid, and if you were an assassin, too, you would've killed me already. You've had plenty of opportunity."

Atton had been glaring at her, but this last, strangely, made him relax. "Yeah, I have," he said firmly, but a lot of the anger had left his voice.

"So whatever you were—?" Darden said, and shrugged again. "It doesn't matter. I just figured if you _do_ have any special combat training it could be a real asset."

Atton holstered his blaster, and smiled at last. "Well, hey, thanks," he said, awkwardly. "But you've got the wrong guy. I can fly your ship. I'm good at shooting people, cracking wise, and pretending I know how to fight with my hands."

Darden nodded slowly. She didn't believe him. Looking at him, she saw a wariness in his gaze that told her that he knew she didn't believe him. But she knew not to press him on it, now. "Fine," she said. "You good to move on? You were a little out of it, before. I was worried."

Atton looked surprised. His ears actually turned pink, and Darden looked away, once more uncomfortable about the effect she seemed to have on the man. "Nah—don't worry about me," he said. "I'm fine. Uh…how're you? The woman here—Atris—Kreia said she was a Jedi? How'd things go with her? You all done?"

Darden shifted and started towards the door. "The handmaidens are supplying the _Hawk_ for us," she said. "At least, some of them are. I think some of them are guarding the mistress' chambers to make sure I don't disturb and upset her anymore."

"Wait—why're they supplying the _Ebon Hawk_?" Atton said, as he and Kreia fell in behind her.

"Because we—that is, I—have agreed to go on a galactic ex-Jedi hunt for Atris, in hopes of maybe figuring out some way of dealing with the Sith that are after both of us," Darden told him.

"And this is our path, then?" Kreia asked.

"Yours and mine and apparently Bao-Dur's," Darden said. "Atton—we do have the ship back, though, and you only promised to help me that far. If you want, you can fly us to some port and we can find another pilot." She frowned. "Not Citadel—though. The Republic's probably still hanging around and I can't afford to be detained."

A door shut in Darden's head, then, and she felt emotions pass behind her. Command, anger, fear. Without her connection to Kreia open she couldn't tell who was feeling what. She paused and looked back. Atton's face had gone tight. "Nah," he said, laughing nervously. "Heh. I'm with you until things start getting better for you. We need to stick together, you know? And who knows—I might be able to help you out of a tight spot at some point."

Darden blinked. It was the second time Atton had volunteered to stay with her against her expectations. Last time, though, on Citadel, he had sounded much more like he wanted to stay, for all that he'd given an estimated time of departure. Now, for all that he was promising to stay with her for an indefinite period, as long as she needed him, though his words were far more enthusiastic, his tone was much less so. The fear—yes—it was coming off of him. In waves. And for some reason she did not feel as if it were directed towards the obvious legions of pursuers after her.

Instinctively she looked at Kreia, but her teacher was looking away. Some horrible suspicion curled in her stomach, but she could not say of what, so she looked back at Atton. "Are you _sure_? You want to stay with me?"

"Yeah," he said. Then again, more positively. "Yeah. I'm with you." Darden felt the tension around him lessen and for a moment didn't realize what had caused the change. Then she did, and she turned on her heel, closed her eyes, and cursed inside her head.

"Come on, then," she said, and started walking.

But what the hell, she thought. She didn't know what she thought of Atton and his obvious attraction to her made her uncomfortable, to say the least. But Atton wasn't Kreia, semi-Sith and cryptic. He wasn't Bao-Dur, whom she couldn't even look at without remembering the war and all that she had done for all that she actually liked him. He wasn't Jedi, or Sith, and he wasn't connected at all with her past. So she was selfish, and it wasn't fair or right or even sensible of her, but she liked having him around. And if he wanted to be an idiot—she stopped that thought up short. It was too much like something Kreia would think.

"Thanks," she muttered belatedly. _Go away, _she thought. _You think this is stupid and dangerous and you're right, and you won't get what you want from me anyway. You can only get hurt staying with me, Atton Rand._

"Hey, don't mention it," he said. "So. If the ghost women are loading the _Ebon Hawk_ we can't leave yet, right? So what are we doing?"

Darden shrugged. "Just walking. Probably be the last time we see something that isn't on board the ship for a while. I don't know where we're going…hey—"she stopped. They'd left the main irrigation chamber a while back now and entered into the room that led off to the bridge, to the exit to the mesa, and another hall Darden hadn't been down yet. Atris had this chamber fixed up like an Academy reception room—with some sort of statue in the center. But that wasn't what had caught Darden's attention.

An Echani handmaiden was standing off to the side of the room, looking like she had been hanging around when she wasn't supposed to be. Darden remembered the attitude from the wars when she had caught guards off-duty, and from her own days as a Padawan, daydreaming when she was supposed to be studying. It was the different one, and she was staring at Darden with unabashed interest.

Darden walked over to her. "You are the exile," the Echani handmaiden said with wonder. "The one Atris warned us about."

Her tone was curious, even cautiously friendly. Darden was intrigued. The other women here had ignored her until she had asked them questions, and then, they had spoken with hauteur and contempt. They had mentioned this one—their sister—for all the women here were sisters. "You're the one that keeps addressing me when your sisters don't," she said. "The last of the Handmaidens, I think they called you?"

The younger woman's face fell. "I am the last of the Handmaidens, this is correct," she said softly. "I train so that one day that will no longer be true."

"The others said you were easily distracted from that training?"

The girl—she really did look like a girl, compared to the others—stepped back. "It dishonors me that they would say such a thing to an outsider. But I cannot deny the truth in what they say. My thoughts are not always focused on training. Perhaps once having known the ways of the Jedi, you may understand what occupies my thoughts."

Darden felt Kreia's interest sharpen behind her, and so she said, "What do you mean? What do you think about, when you're distracted from your training?"

The last of the Handmaidens looked up at the statue in the center of the room. "There is much knowledge here," she replied, "And only one of the Jedi remains. There is so much about their ways of battle, their forms, their stances, that may be lost forever if the last of the Jedi is taken from the galaxy."

"I see," Darden said.

It wasn't often that the last of the Handmaidens got to speak her thoughts. She continued, "To the Echani, battle is the purest form of communication," she explained. "Stance, form, discipline are a means of expression and communication. They speak one's heart and one's devotion to their cause."

Darden frowned. The girl might very well be right, she acknowledged, but she spoke of what was communicated like it was a thing of beauty. "Devotion to the cause demonstrated through battle," she repeated flatly.

The girl looked at her. "Yes. The methods you use to meet your opponent speak truer than any words can express," she said. "When you risk pain or death, there is no truer sacrifice or strength."

Darden was forcefully impressed by both the girl's insight and her naïveté. "And what of slaughter?" she demanded. "What of that? Is that, too, a form of communication?"

The girl's spine straightened. "It was to the Jedi traitor Malak," she answered firmly. "It was to the Jedi traitor Revan. When Taris was destroyed, it showed Malak's heart through its execution and intent. It was brutal, without finesse, but it showed his commitment to defeat the Jedi. Yet with Revan, there was the same commitment, but it was a subtle thing, like weaving threads in a tapestry, or strokes upon a canvas. She spoke through battle and tactics in a way that one could never do in words. She showed her heart at Malachor V, and finally at the end of the Jedi Civil War. I believe she was speaking to Malak in that final battle, though few knew it."

Throughout this speech Kreia's distaste had been bleeding through the link in the back of Darden's mind more and more strongly. Darden herself, though, just felt very, very sad. "She killed him," she told Atris' Handmaiden bitterly. "And no one was there to see it. So who knows what she said? We certainly can't ask her."

"Who'd want to?" Atton muttered.

But the Handmaiden only looked grave. "What stronger display than death for conveying one's sense of being betrayed by one's own student?" she asked quietly. "Revan's anger must have been great indeed."

Kreia could keep silent no more. "To claim to know anything of Revan's choices or what lay in her heart when Malak fell is conceit, servant of Atris," she snapped. "And whether Revan had any choice in the matter at all is something else you should consider. The Force is a powerful thing to wield…or deny."

Darden looked back at her teacher. In Kreia's anger, the old woman was revealing more of herself than she perhaps meant to. The Handmaiden replied, "But to say that seems an untruth, based on what I know of the Jedi," she argued. "The Force can drive others, but there is still choice, is there not?"

"Ah, but at what point does the power the Force exerts submerge any attempt at choice, or free will?" Kreia rebutted. "You have taken a complicated question, servant of Atris, and you have trivialized it with your answer…and lack of experience."

Kreia had a point about the Handmaiden's gross simplification, but Darden disagreed with the basis upon which her teacher took exception to the girl's theories, and she couldn't help but feel vindicated when Atris' Handmaiden replied, "If there is no choice in the Force, then our teachings and actions are for nothing. And I refuse to believe that is true."

Kreia looked like making an acid retort, but Darden cut her off. "We could debate free will and destiny all day, but your mistress has given me a mission, has she not?" she asked the Handmaiden. "Even now your sisters are supplying my ship. I don't think they like me very much. If Atris warned all of you about me, it might explain why. What did she say?"

Now it was Atton's turn to stand straighter behind Darden with interest. The Handmaiden answered readily enough. "She said you betrayed the Jedi by going to war when it was forbidden to you," she answered easily. "You turned on your masters, your teachings, and on yourself."

"Does she?" Darden said. She had thought that Atris would have been too proud to tell her servants about her grudge, but it appeared that wasn't the case. Atris was angrier than Darden had thought, even.

"That is not all she says," answered the girl. "She says you know nothing of loyalty to any cause except your own animal instincts, and she told us why you fell to the Dark Side."

Anger rushed through Darden at the injustice and the slander. "I didn't give into the Dark Side!" she said hotly. "I _never_ did!"

The Handmaiden watched her face carefully. "_Atris says_ that you fell to the Dark Side in the Mandalorian Wars when you gave in to your lust for battle," she replied simply. "Once you tasted war, you could not give it up."

Darden blinked, catching the tone of the younger woman's recital, as if by repeating Atris' sentiments to Darden she would verify their truth. As if she was not sure, herself. She nodded. "Except I did give it up, didn't I?" she replied now, changing tack. "Why didn't I fight against the Jedi in the Civil War, if I had fallen to the Dark Side and loved war so much?"

Kreia made a noise of approval.

But the Handmaiden had an answer for that, too. "Atris says when the Dark Lord Revan returned to the Republic, you did not march with them because you had fallen so far you could no longer feel the Force."

Darden took in a breath, suddenly feeling cold, and very, very aware of Kreia's presence right behind her. If Atris and the Council had stripped her of the Force, why would Atris believe such a thing about her, tell her servants? "I see," she said. "And does Atris—has she told you anything else?"

"I believe that is the extent of her expressed feelings towards you," the girl replied quietly. "There are variations at times, but all rise from the same foundation."

Darden caught the implication. "You see it, too, then," she said. "Or suspect that what Atris says is not what she feels."

The Handmaiden shifted. She loved Atris. Doubting her was uncomfortable. But she replied, "It is difficult for others to truly speak their heart or listen to it. The words often prove difficult, or they do not come at all."

Darden all of a sudden decided she liked this girl—this last of Atris' Handmaidens. She liked her thoughtfulness, her seriousness, her ability to both doubt Atris' feelings and have compassion on them. And there was something else about her, too. If Kreia hadn't already said that the Handmaidens couldn't feel the Force—except she had also said that it was their discipline that desensitized them, hadn't she? _Their discipline blinds them to the Force, even if they were Force Sensitive._ So, softly, she asked, "What do _you_ feel Atris' heart says of me, last of the Handmaidens?"

The girl met her gaze. "Without having seen you and Atris fight, I cannot say," she replied. "Battle is a pure form of expression. It is heart and discipline, reduced to movement and motion."

"So if I fought Atris, that might make the truth come out?" she asked.

"Perhaps," the Handmaiden said cautiously. "It may prove truer than conversing with words. In battle, the words are swept away, giving way to actions—mercy, sacrifice, anger, fear. These are pure moments of expression."

Darden shook her head incredulously. "You're so different from the others here," she said. "Your ideas—and your appearance."

The last of the Handmaidens stiffened. "I honor the face of my mother," she explained. "It is not something spoken of in the company of others."

All at once Darden got it. Not just the Force Sensitivity she suspected this girl possessed, but also her sisters' coldness towards her. Possibly, even probably, the girl's ranking had nothing to do with her preoccupation with Jedi combat techniques. "I didn't mean to offend you," she said. "It's a good thing."

The last of the Handmaidens relaxed. "There is no need to apologize," she said. "You were merely remarking on something that you saw—there is no wrong in that."

No, and this girl was certainly forward enough about her own observations. "Is it a sensitive subject?" Darden asked.

Atris' Handmaiden shook her head. "It is not a sensitive subject, but a subject that requires trust. There is no such trust between you and I, and such trust takes time."

Darden sighed, realizing that the others had probably finished loading the _Ebon Hawk_. She extended her hand, and the girl took it. They shook. "Unfortunately, time I don't have," Darden said. "I really am sorry about that. I'd like to get to know you better, I think. Thank you for talking with me."

At Darden's words, a look of such longing crossed the Handmaiden's sensitive face that Darden caught her breath. "Before you go, exile…question for you, if I may ask. You have touched the Force. What does it feel like?"

Darden kept the girl's hand, and pressed it. Atris' handmaidens were forbidden to learn the ways of the Force, and with sisters that already disliked her…"Are you sure you want to know?" she asked quietly. "It's a difficult thing to describe, and I'm not sure it'll make things easier for you."

The girl clung to her, holding on to her hand so tight she cut off the circulation. "Please," she begged. "Tell me!"

Darden sighed, and eased out of the girl's grip. "Close your eyes," she said. "Imagine awakening, and hearing the heartbeat of the galaxy for the first time. Sensing the life, the energy all around you, the pulse of it all. The currents and patterns in everything, and if you follow them, out, out, they take you along, and you are a part of them."

"The Force is like a cloud," Kreia said unexpectedly. "A mist that drifts from living creature to creature, set in motion by currents and eddies. It is the eye of the storm, the passions of all living things turned into energy, into a chorus. It is the rising swell at the end of life, the promise of new territories and new blood, the call of new mysteries in the dark."

The girl's eyes were closed, and as the two of them spoke, a small smile curved her lips. She opened them. "I see," she said. "Thank you both. I appreciate you sharing your knowledge with me."

Darden nodded. She hitched up her pack on her shoulders and turned to start to go. Then she added, "Look—if you ever need anything—find me, okay? I'd love to answer any questions you might have about me, or what happened, or maybe—maybe just get to know you. Your way. Through combat. Get to know you, and let you get to know me."

The last of the Handmaidens bowed, Echani-style, with her hands crossed over her breast. "It has been my honor, exile."

Darden felt her eyes on them as she led her friends out through the hallway they hadn't been down yet, and towards the _Ebon Hawk_.

Atton looked at her. "You'd talk with her, really?" he asked. "You don't talk to anyone."

Darden frowned. "I know. But she's different. I think she just wants to understand."

Kreia snorted. "You crave acceptance, absolution. Have you learned nothing?"

"I have," Darden retorted. "I needed to come here. I was _right_, Kreia. All those years ago, I was right. Atris was wrong, and she's still wrong, and pardon me if I don't want that girl to suffer for it."

"She is Atris' slave and happy to be so," Kreia said. "You are blind if you do not see it. You weaken yourself with compassion for one too naïve to understand one such as you in the least."

"Well, it won't last long, will it?" Darden snapped. "We're leaving, and she's staying, and ten to one we don't see her again for a long, long time. Maybe not ever, if the Sith or the Exchange get us."

She quickened her pace, and burst into the next room, where she was greeted by whistling and chirping. She blinked. "Teethree?"

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I'm bringing along Handmaiden, as well as Disciple. I know in the game you can't do that if you play female, but my oracle Wookieepedia hinted that if Obsidian hadn't rushed the game to oblige Lucasfilm, the Handmaiden would have been able to accompany the Exile, regardless. And she is still listed as one of the companions of the canon Meetra Surik. **

**Besides, I like Handmaiden. She's way, way too serious, and has a bad habit of disrobing with the cargo hold door wide open, but she's got fascinating ideas and a more interesting backstory than any other companion of the Exile's that didn't accompany/teach Revan first. This is my novelization, though no one seems to be reading it. So I'll put her in if I want. I write her as the youngest of Darden's companions, though I'm not going to be specific about her age, because it's implied that her mother was a Jedi that went to fight in the Mandalorian Wars once her affair and child were discovered, and her father followed her, and thus the Handmaiden never knew her Now the Mandalorian Wars were going on ten years before Revan led lots of Jedi into them to go on to win—so the Handmaiden could be as old as twenty-four, if her mother was particularly independent. But she sounds like a much younger character with her devotion to Atris and the way she has of taking herself and her ideas so seriously. I really think she's somewhere in her mid-to-late teens, and that's how I write her. Sorry to any male!Exile/Handmaiden shippers that may be (but probably aren't) reading this if that makes it creepy. **

**If you're curious, I've got Bao-Dur at about thirty-seven and Atton at maybe thirty-two or thirty-three. Darden's exactly the same age as my Revan, which means she starts off this story at thirty-four, went to war at nineteen, and ordered Malachor at twenty-four. Disciple will be quite a bit younger, in his mid-to-late twenties, with Mira in her early twenties, as Disciple was supposed to be an apprentice when Darden went off to war, and Mira still a child when she finished it. **

**If you didn't really want to know that and haven't noticed, I ramble in my Author's Notes. You can skip them, if you like. Then again, I'm not sure anyone is reading this and I think I'm for the most part just writing for my own enjoyment, now. **

**If you are reading, however, thanks. May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp**


	12. Leader

**Disclaimer: Don't sue me.**

* * *

XI.

Leader

The droid was imprisoned in an energy field, hooked up to an enormous computer, but he looked none the worse for being stolen. Darden grinned. "Well, hello there!"

Teethree whistled at her very fast, obviously glad to see her, too.

Atton folded his arms. "Well, hey, if it isn't the one who stole the _Ebon Hawk_," he sneered. "Not so smug now, are you, you little thief?"

Darden laughed, but Kreia snapped, "Don't be a fool. Atris stole the _Ebon Hawk_."

"Says you," Atton muttered, glaring at the droid. Darden laughed at him again and went to the computer. She accessed it and disabled the energy field. Teethree disconnected from the computer and whistled something up at Darden.

"Yeah, a lot's happened," she agreed. "Are you all right? She didn't do anything horrible to you, did she?"

He chirped a reply that no, he was still fully functional and ready to serve. He then remarked that Atris had downloaded his entire memory core while he'd been imprisoned.

Darden frowned. "Why would she want what's in your memory core?"

Teethree whirred vaguely, then said he had something she really should see. "Wait, okay?" Darden told him. "We'll be at the ship in a moment."

Teethree went with them to the hangar. The _Ebon Hawk_ was sitting there ready. Darden smiled. "Home sweet home," she murmured, walking up the open boarding ramp. She put a hand on the side of the ship. Bao-Dur had started her up, and she was humming with energy, ready to fly. "You're a lot of trouble," she said. "You know that?"

She turned to Atton. "Get us off this rock, Rand. Into hyperspace before Atris changes her mind or fifty people that want to kill us drop out of the sky. We'll decide where to go later."

He grinned. "You got it, Darden," and headed for the cockpit.

Two minutes later Darden felt the ship buck under her as it soared out of the Telosian irrigation system and into the sky.

They were in hyperspace and Darden called all the small crew together around the little table in the security room that would double as a conference room on a ship this size. "Well," she said. "That's Telos behind us, anyway."

"Yeah," Atton said. "Now that we're off that dejarik board of a planet I suggest we burn sky until we see lines."

Teethree beeped frantically.

Darden blinked. "Hey, what's up?" she asked the droid.

He whirred and his sensor flickered through a rainbow of colors. Darden started to laugh. "He—I don't believe it! Atris! He downloaded her files when she was downloading his memory!"

Teethree chirped an affirmation, and added there was really something she might want to see. Then he told her what it was.

"What is the machine saying?" Kreia asked.

Darden looked around at her teacher, Bao-Dur, and Atton. Bao-Dur knew what it was T3-M4 was saying. He looked grim. But Darden shrugged. "If we're going to be traveling together for a while, all of you might as well know," she said. "Teethree-go ahead and play the holo. It's just history now."

Teethree whirred, and his projector flared into life, and once again Darden saw the airy chamber of the Council room on Coruscant, and the five occupied chairs in it. She saw herself, ten years younger, with her hair in that ridiculous military bun she used to wear, in Jedi robes carrying the lightsaber Atris had now.

"But that's—"Atton said.

"Yeah," Darden said. "It's my sentencing."

"You look like you've just—"

"Shut up."

"Yeah."

The holo-Darden stood before the Council, her mouth in a thin line, her head held high. Her shoulders were set, though, as if they bore a world's weight, and she was pale. Deathly so.

Holo-Vrook spoke from his chair, severe as always. "Do you know why we have called you here?" he asked, majestic and terrible.

Darden heard the words as she had spoken them that day, "Whatever your reasons, speak them, or let me go."

With a pang Darden saw holo-Kavar looking sad and judgmental. _My friend, my master,_ she thought. _From these others I expected what happened here. But not from you_. "As Revan summoned you, so have you come full circle to return to the Jedi."

Holo-Zez-Kai Ell. "Why did you defy us?" he demanded from underneath his superb mustache. "The Jedi are guardians of the peace and have been for centuries. This call to war undermines all that we have worked for."

"Is Revan your Master now?" asked holo-Atris. "Or is it the horror you wrought at Malachor that has caused you to see the truth at last?"

"That's Atris," real-Darden said in a low voice to the others around the table.

Holo-Darden looked pained. And angry. "Maintaining the Council's mandate for peace would not have stopped the Mandalorians' war," she said in a clear, ringing voice. "The slaughter would have continued had I and the others not gone. They had to be stopped. I stopped them, and now there may be peace."

"You refuse to hear us," said Zez-Kai Ell. "You have shut us out, and so have shut yourself to the galaxy."

"The Jedi Council is not the galaxy," Darden had replied flatly.

"You are exiled," holo-Vash said. Darden had not noticed then, but today she noticed that Vash looked sorry. "And you are a Jedi no longer."

Holo-Darden's hands shook. Her face paled even more. She turned on her heel without a word, but Vrook Lamar stopped her.

"There is one last thing," he said. "Your lightsaber. Surrender it to us."

Slowly, holo-Darden turned. Her mouth opened, but she said nothing. Her eyes flashed. She activated her lightsaber. And then she whirled it over her head and plunged the silvery blue double-blade deep into the center stone of the Council chamber. She stormed out. The recording didn't follow her, but Darden remembered how she had broken down into bitter, anguished sobs not thirty seconds later.

The recording continued, though. Darden blinked as holo-Kavar addressed the other Council members. "Much defiance in that one."

"You were correct, Kavar," Vash said. "When she was here, I felt it. It was as if she was not there, more like an echo."

"The war has touched the youngest of the Order," another Master remarked. "Many of them have lost themselves in battle against the Mandalorians."

"We have not lost a Jedi this day," Atris declared. In the holo she was pale, shaking with anger. "You felt it. She has lost herself. She is no Jedi—she walked Revan's path, but she was not strong enough."

"I fear it is our teachings that may have led Revan to choose the path that she did," Zez-Kai Ell remarked reflectively, stroking his mustache. His eyes were troubled.

"_We_ are not the ones who taught her," Atris snapped, viciously.

"We take responsibility, Atris, not cast blame," Vash rebuked her gently.

"The choice of one was the choice of us all," Kavar added. "Revan's teacher intended no harm. And Revan has had many teachers since."

"Yet they all stem from the same source," Atris argued. "Her teachings violated the Jedi Code and lead all who listen to the Dark Side, as they did the exile."

"You are wrong," Vash said simply. "The Dark Side is not what I sensed in Darden Leona. Surely the rest of you felt it, as well. That emptiness we felt—she has changed."

Atris shook her head. "Whatever that—wound—was," she spat, "It was of the Dark Side. We should not have let her depart. She will simply join Revan again, or perhaps worse."

"What would you have be done with her, Atris?" Zez-Kai Ell asked wearily. "Be mindful of your feelings! This is not Revan who stood before you. This one walks a different path."

"No," said Kavar thoughtfully, "Although that may come in time. We let her go because we must. Where she travels, she carries her destination with her."

"Malachor V should have been her grave!" Atris said. "You saw it in her walk, and in the Force. It was as if she was already dead."

"No," Vrook said. "Not death. Many battles remain for that one, if what we have seen is true. But the future is a shifting thing, and she cuts like a blade through it."

Vash was frowning. "We should have told her the truth," she said suddenly. "A Jedi deserves to know."

"No good would have come from it," Vrook told her, "Even if what you believed was true. There is still the matter of Revan, and such truths could leave us vulnerable on two fronts."

"Perhaps in many years," Kavar said, "We will call her before us and explain what happened to her and how she may be healed. Until then, she must accept her journey."

"But she may never discover the truth," Vash objected. "And she will never know why we cast her out."

"Then that is the future we must accept," Vrook said.

The holo ended. Teethree shut off his projector, and Darden sat in her chair, stunned.

Atton let out a whistle. "Those Jedi sure like their secrets, don't they?"

Darden shook her head. "No—there's got to be more. Teethree, there's more, isn't there?"

Teethree beeped a negative, but then added something.

"Show me."

"What are we looking at?" Atton asked.

"List of the ex-Jedi Atris knows about and last known locations," Darden said shortly.

Vrook Lamar. Dantooine. Atris. Telos. Zez-Kai Ell. Nar Shaddaa. Kavar. Onderon. Vash. Korriban. Darden breathed in and out.

"It would be them, wouldn't it?" She looked across at Bao-Dur. "Just like you. This can't be coincidence."

Kreia shook her head. "There is some larger plan at work here. And we are walking into it. This is far too convenient to be anything but a trap."

Darden stared at the table. "They know something—about me, about what happened. I don't think they exiled me for the Wars. I don't think they stripped me of the Force. I have to find them. And anyway, we need their help against the Sith. Teethree, can you show us the list again?"

Holos of the lost Jedi, the lost Masters appeared over the table again. This time, though, someone spoke from the door. Harshly.

"Those are Atris' records you have stolen."

Darden whirled. It was that girl! The last of the Handmaidens!

"What the hell are you doing on our ship?" Atton demanded, drawing his blaster.

"I have come to join you," she said evenly, looking not the least bit threatened by Atton. "I can help you against this threat."

"Well, we don't want your help," Atton said nastily. "Or any of your sisters."

The Handmaiden held up her hands and slowly walked into the room. "It's just me," she said, keeping her eyes on Darden. "And I am doing this because Atris believes you will need help."

Darden kept her eyes on the girl, but addressed Atton. "Put the blaster away. We're not going to kill her."

"She's a spy, Darden! We didn't ask for her help, and we don't need it!"

Bao-Dur shifted. "If her intentions were good then I don't understand why she would have to stowaway," he offered.

Darden raised an eyebrow. Actually, she thought quite the opposite. If Atris wanted to keep an eye on her, Darden thought that it was much more likely she would have ordered her to take one of her handmaidens along. Probably the Handmaiden did mean to report to Atris, but Darden thought she just might be here on her own initiative. Softly, she asked, "Girl, what do _you_ think? Do we need your help?"

The Handmaiden held her head high and swept her gaze over Kreia, Bao-Dur, T3-M4, Atton, and Darden each in turn. "I think the strength of the enemy is unknown, but it is greater than five can hope to defeat without aid," she said firmly.

Basically, Darden would need all the help she could get, then, and whether or not the Handmaiden was a spy for Atris, Darden wasn't in a position to turn her down. Darden smiled ruefully. "Well. That's the truth. Fine. We'll take you on."

"Indeed?" Kreia demanded sharply. "But of course—what does one more matter to our journey? I have had enough of this—I will be in my chambers."

She swept past the Handmaiden as coldly as Atris herself could have done.

Atton holstered his gun with an expression of disgust. "Yeah, me too," he said. "I'll be in my chambers. But since I don't have any, I guess I'll just go to the cockpit like I always do. If she's coming with us, she gets the cargo hold. Might remind her how fun it is to get locked up."

He left, too. T3-M4 beeped and rolled off, though not coldly. Bao-Dur stayed for a moment. Then he said, "Welcome aboard." Doubtfully. He nodded to Darden. "General."

Atris' handmaiden's face was impassive as one by one the crew left. She turned to Darden. "The cargo hold is enough," she said. "I assure you, there is little I need. I will attend to myself."

Darden shook her head, feeling ashamed of her crew. "Atton, Kreia, and I have been through a lot in the past week," she said, "And Bao-Dur fought for me in the Wars. They're—protective of me. They're worried. I hope you understand that."

The Handmaiden nodded frostily and turned to leave, too. Darden stopped her, grabbing her shoulder.

"I'll talk to them," she promised. "There's no reason why you shouldn't sleep in the women's quarters with Kreia and me. Or in the medical room. I go there sometimes, when—"

The girl cut her off. "It is no matter, Darden Leona. I am used to worse conditions." She paused. "But—I thank you for your kindness." She broke away then, presumably to go make herself at home in the cargo hold. Darden sighed.

* * *

She decided to tackle the easiest first. Bao-Dur was in the garage. The _Ebon Hawk_ had undergone immense repairs on Peragus, and here was where it was most obvious. The reworked hull was just airtight. The paneling wasn't complete on it, and the framework was still set up from floor to ceiling along a good two or three meters of the wall. Bao-Dur was standing by this framework, holding a torch to the framework, melting the bars and reworking the molten metal over the hull to panel the walls.

"You can't just leave it alone, can you?" Darden said, fondly.

He shrugged. "Hyperspace is boring, especially when we don't know where we're going. It gives me something to do. I'm not sure who got your ship up and running, but I'm amazed that she's even spaceworthy. Whoever made these repairs doesn't think like most mechanics. But don't worry, I'll get everything in shape."

There was a workbench built into the wall opposite Bao-Dur. Darden went over to it. Somebody had put a bin of spare components and weaponry parts beside it. They might've been in Bao-Dur's pack, Darden thought, or Atris' handmaidens might have supplied them for her to use in Atris' service (though she doubted Atris had ordered them provided—not to the war-mongering Dark-Sided maniac). Wherever they had come from, Darden was delighted. She drew the double vibrosword she had reclaimed from Atris' handmaidens and set to work immediately.

"I wanted to thank you for at least welcoming the Handmaiden back there," Darden said to Bao-Dur, behind her. "Even though you didn't mean it. I appreciated it, and I think she did, too."

"What you say goes for me, General," Bao-Dur said after a moment. "If you think she isn't a threat, then she's a friend."

Darden worked open the grip-casing on the vibrosword to mess with the wiring. "Oh, she might be a threat, but if we treat her like a friend anyway, at the very least she'll relax her guard and we might learn something. But if she is a threat, there's no way we can turn her into a friend by ostracizing and disrespecting her. And anyway, she's right. We can't afford to turn down her help."

The wiring sparked. Bao-Dur was quiet for a moment. "Why are you fixing that?" he asked finally.

"Because I want my sword to be more than a pointy stick that shocks people."

"No—"he said. "I mean, is there a reason you don't carry a lightsaber instead?"

Darden rewired in the improved energy cell and started reworking the grip. "You saw what happened to it, Bao-Dur," she said quietly. She finished the grip and started sharpening the edge, making sure to keep the power switched off. There was a pause in which the only sounds to be heard were the gas from Bao-Dur's blowtorch and the whizz-whizz of Darden's sharpening. "Atris has it now," Darden added at last. "A reminder of my 'insult to the Order', she says."

"That's not your lightsaber anymore," Bao-Dur replied, speaking with unusual firmness. "Good or bad, that belonged to someone who served Revan in the wars, not the person you are now. You could build another one if you wanted to. But you know that."

"I never have before," Darden confessed. But her hands stilled over the workbench. She reached into her pocket and brought out the lightsaber energy cell fixture Chodo Habat had given her on Telos. "It didn't feel right. But now—I can feel the Force again. I'm out looking for Jedi—everyone thinks I am one no matter how I deny it. I think…I'm starting to think that it might be time."

"It is time," Bao-Dur said with certainty. He shut his blowtorch off and walked over. "A lightsaber is part of who you are, General. Without it, you're not complete. And you've been incomplete for too long, I think. What do you have there?"

Darden handed him the fixture.

He turned it over in his hands. "You can use this to build a new lightsaber, along with some other parts," he told her.

"I know. A power cell for this fixture, but I need some other stuff, too," Darden said. "Only I can't remember, exactly."

"I think I can help you out there," Bao-Dur said. "You also need an emitter matrix, lens, and focusing crystal—and fixtures for all of them, but those are easy to build. Though I have to admit, the crystal is beyond my means. Never did understand them. The parts are fairly common, though a Jedi once told me that it's best if your lightsaber reflects you, and if it is constructed of things that identify it as your own. I can help you find the parts, and make sure they're usable."

He pressed the fixture back into her hand and closed her fingers over it. She smiled up at him. "Thanks. You know, you're right. It's time I did carry a lightsaber again."

He walked back over to his work. "I'm here to help, General." He picked his blowtorch back up and Darden bent back over her vibrosword. Until she had her lightsaber, she'd need it. The two of them worked in their respective corners of the garage in companionable silence for a while, but by and by Bao-Dur spoke again. "Seeing that holo, General—I didn't want to talk about the war, but why did you decide to fight? Why did you go, in the first place?"

Darden finished sharpening the edge of her sword and turned to face the Iridonian. "I'm talking about the war more and more now. If anyone has the right to ask me anything, it's you." She picked up her vibrosword, twirled it a few times, checking the balance and the weight. "The Jedi are sworn to protect the defenseless," she told him. "We were allied with the Republic and the Mandalorians were destroying worlds. The Council was serving no one with inaction. So when Revan called, I felt that it was the right thing to do, to go. The only thing to do."

Bao-Dur shut off his blowtorch again, though he still faced the panel. "The war went poorly before Revan and the Jedi lent aid to the Republic," he said. "Many of us believed the Jedi to be cowards who were afraid to face the Mandalorian threat. I remember when word of the Mandalorian attacks arrived on Iridonia. My people had colonies across the Outer Rim. Many of them were among the first systems to fall."

Darden shrugged. "It was as good a reason as any for joining."

Now Bao-Dur looked up at her from where he knelt on the floor. His eyes challenged and pled all at once. "I did not join because I wanted to protect, though," he told her. "I hated them. I wanted to destroy them—to give them the _mercy_ they gave the people they conquered. I remember the thrill I felt when I fought them in battle. Victories were rare, but we celebrated every Mandalorian's death. Do you know how it felt?"

He spoke in his usual soft voice, but passion underlined his every word, and his face was knit with remembered anger, remembered hatred. It was strange hearing the warlike sentiments from the kindly mechanic, but Darden also knew, and knew better than anyone that this was the designer of the Mass Shadow Generator. She had seen what his mind and heart was capable of then, and more recently even, this was the one that fought so aggressively she had had to mark his every movement to make sure he didn't get killed. This was the one that had tried to take on Czerka alone.

Darden was disturbed, but she wanted, too, to be gentle. After all, what room had she to judge? So she replied, "I don't. I was nearly as sorry to kill the Mandalorians as I was to sacrifice my own troops. I wished they would stop and I wanted the war to end. But—perhaps I had been trained. Conditioned to resist things like hate, anger."

Bao-Dur dropped his gaze. "I couldn't do that," he said. "It was almost as though the battle took control of me, drove me forward. It's always on my mind, now. That loss of control blinded me, turned me into a weapon. I fight against it, now, but—I still struggle. I think you saw that, on Telos."

"I did," Darden said.

"I—just needed to get that off my chest," he said.

Darden knelt beside him and squeezed his shoulder. "Hey."

He looked over at her.

"We all did things we regret," she said. "We all became things we regret. Take what you learned from it, and try to leave the guilt behind."

Bao-Dur smiled, gently mocking her. "Have you?"

Darden smiled back. "No. But fixing things helps, doesn't it?"

He nodded. "You do it, too?"

"Yeah," Darden said. "Used to be blasters, or armor, or apartment furniture. Whatever was on hand. Now it seems I'm trying to fix the galaxy."

"You and me both, General," Bao-Dur said as she stood, and when she left the garage, he started working on fixing her ship, still trying to forget Malachor, because he could never atone.

* * *

_EBON HAWK_, COCKPIT

Atton had his feet up on the instruments panel. He was just staring out into hyperspace, wondering how in hell he was supposed to 'serve' Darden if the woman wouldn't even listen to him. That Echani girl—she was so obviously a spy for that Atris. Watching the holo-vid, it had been clearer than clear that Atris _hated_ Darden. She was the worst kind of Jedi, the self-righteous type that would let the galaxy burn so long as she got to keep what she saw as the moral high ground, one of those that came down hardest on people like Darden that had tried to fix things, and not at all on people that had messed things up in the first place. She said Darden ought to have died at Malachor—as far as Atton was concerned, he was sorry Atris had so far been missed in the Sith's Jedi purge. And now one of hers was on board and they were just supposed to let it slide? No way. Darden might be dumb enough to trust this Echani girl, but he, Atton, would watch her. If she put one foot wrong, just one…

_Not _that he owed Darden anything. She'd actually considered that he might be a spy or an assassin himself. Atton sighed. She was smart. Maybe too smart. It might not matter in the end that he'd sold his soul to Kreia to buy her silence. Considering who Darden was, if he gave her anything else, accidentally or not, she might be able to guess the whole sordid story. He'd be as good as dead. Maybe he already was.

He heard the footsteps of doom themselves coming up behind him. He forced himself not to turn around and she swung into the co-pilot's seat.

"What, you ready to continue interrogating me?" he demanded. "I think I've got some childhood details you haven't tried to rip out of me yet."

The chair creaked as she swiveled around. He could feel her watching him. "I said it didn't matter, and I meant it. Whether or not you know Echani combat, or any other interesting skills, you're an important part of this crew, and I'm glad you're with me."

Atton took his feet off the instruments' panel and turned to face her. "Uh—thanks. Thanks. So, if you're not here to interrogate me—why are you here?"

"I figured none of us want to drift around in hyperspace forever," Darden said. "Set a course for Onderon."

"Onderon, huh? Why there, first?"

She shrugged. "I knew Master Kavar well," she said. "He actually taught me, for a time. Afterwards he was still my friend. I figured if we're looking for ex-Jedi who don't want to be found, it might be best to start with someone that might not mind a visit from me too much. Besides—from what we heard on Telos, trouble's brewing on Onderon. In a few months we might not be able to get in at all."

"Yeah, okay," Atton said. "I don't know where we are right now—busted navicomputer. Once I plug in the coordinates it could be anywhere from a week to a month to get there."

"Fine," Darden said. "We're stocked for two months."

Atton started plugging in coordinates. That trash bucket had given him all four sets earlier—he really hoped they were worth something, or they might be lost a long time. Or come out of hyperspace in the middle of a moon. Darden was watching him, leaning forward, bracing her forearms on her knees. She was unarmed, he noticed. Didn't have her pack or a blaster or anything to play with. That was new. She usually held that stuff like a wall between them.

"Does it change things?" she asked him.

"Does what change things?" Atton asked, taking the controls and starting to take a new hyperspace route that would bring them to Onderon in ten days.

"Knowing who I was. What I did."

"It kind of explains a lot, actually," he said, avoiding her gaze.

"You know what I mean," she said.

He did. And the truth was that it did. The truth was her strength seemed even more incredible now; her odd moments of utterly ruthless logic taken alongside surprising compassion and vulnerability were even more fascinating now that he knew the story behind them. Watching the holo-vid, where she had thrust her lightsaber into that rock and stormed out, never wavering in her conviction that she'd been right, no matter what she'd done. It was inspiring. Amazing. Out of the corner of his eye now, she almost seemed to glow. Now he knew, she was more beautiful than ever to him, and he wanted her badly enough that it was starting to scare him.

But he forced a smile. "You're still that crazy Jedi that walks around in her underwear to me. You haven't done that lately, by the way. Might be nice to give it another go. Remember the good old days when droids were shooting at us on Peragus and we weren't on a wild gizka chase for Jedi around the galaxy."

"Yeah—I think I'll give the underwear a pass," she said.

He looked over at her and raised an eyebrow. "Really? You going commando under there, General?"

She blushed beet red and he grinned at her. "I ought to slap you sometimes," she muttered.

"But you haven't," he pointed out. "Hey, does that mean I've got a shot?"

"Through the head someday, maybe," Darden retorted.

"Ooh, I'm scared," he mocked. "Beware, exile! Your feelings reveal you! Anger is of the Dark Side, Darden Leona."

"So is passion, or so we're told," Darden replied seriously. "Atton, we really do need to talk about—"she looked up at him, then down. Backing out. "The Handmaiden," she said quickly instead.

He looked away. "What about the spy?"

"Try to be nice?" Darden asked. "She works for Atris, but that's not her fault. And plus, it's more Atris' style to order a handmaiden with us than to have one stowaway. I can't help thinking she may be here on her own initiative."

"You think she's not reporting to that Jedi schutta that hates your guts?" Atton asked flatly.

"No. I think she almost certainly is. But I also think she's doing it to make up for running away."

"Well, she seemed nice enough on Telos," Atton admitted grudgingly. "Though that battle obsession she's got is pretty weird. And just killing her-" Six years ago he would have done it without hesitation. Three months ago he might've thought about it first. But with Darden looking at him like that with those long-lashed big green eyes of hers, asking that he be nice to Atris' spy, "I don't know," he said. "It'd just be wrong, wouldn't it?" And as he said the words and she smiled at him, he thought he might even be telling the truth.

"Yeah. I think so, too. But that's not enough—not killing her, that is. It's just—if we treat her like an enemy there is no possible way she won't be one. If we treat her like we're grateful for her help, like we want to help her, too, be her friend—"

"I get you," he said. "All right, play nice with the spy. You got it."

She smiled still more brightly at him. "Thanks, Atton," she said. "And thanks for worrying, too. I know you were just looking out for me." She paused, and bit her lip, blushing again. "That is—I keep saying the wrong thing to you," she burst out, suddenly angry. "I didn't mean—"

"What? To imply that I might give a damn what happens to you?" Atton said, laughing at the same time that he felt like blasting his brains out. She was so incredibly awkward. Really, of all the people he could've developed an attraction to. Cute, but he probably would've had a better shot with anyone in the galaxy. "Sweetheart, do me a favor? Shut up. We're going to be spending a lot of time together. We can be friends, all right?"

She went still. "Are we?" she said. "I'd like to be."

"Yeah," he said. "So don't sweat it." Then he swore inside his head. He couldn't help it. "Means you can hug me any time you want. Or—"

"Spacebrain, do me a favor?" Darden said, mimicking his tone from earlier. "Shut up."

He laughed appreciatively. "All right."

They fell into companionable silence. By and by Darden drew something out of her pocket. "We on course for Onderon?" she asked.

"Yeah—we'll get there in about ten days."

She held up what she had in her hand, and Atton grinned. "Can I interest you in—"

"No," she snapped. "Republic Senate Rules"

"You'll still lose," Atton said, bringing out his own pazaak deck. "I'll deal."

* * *

_EBON HAWK_, CARGO HOLD

Darden decided to see to the Handmaiden after she left Atton. It had been several hours since the departure from Telos, and time that the girl might be getting tired. And, okay, Darden was a little afraid to go talk to Kreia. Even though several hours had passed, she could still feel her teacher fuming, though Kreia had erected her mental barrier, and there was silence in the back of her mind.

The last of the Handmaidens was not sleeping. She was not resting or sitting. Darden walked into the cargo hold to find her mid-kick. She blinked, and the Handmaiden landed on both feet and bowed. "Oh, welcome, exile. Is there something you need?"

She spoke in a soft, deferential voice that clashed with her use of 'exile', and her ice blue eyes searched Darden's face with something like puzzlement.

Darden jumped up onto a cargo barrel and regarded the girl. "You know, you really don't have to stay here," she said. "I'll deal with Kreia. Or you really can have the med bay."

"The solitude suits me," the girl replied. "See?" she gestured to the corner, and Darden saw that she had already set up a pallet next to a white pack. "I assure you I will be quite comfortable." She closed her mouth, then opened it again, but hesitated.

"What?" Darden asked.

"You are different than I anticipated, given what Atris told us of you," the Handmaiden said. "You are kind to me, even though the rest of your companions distrust me. And—it is more than that. In your features, your stance, there is a certain calm about you that I did not expect, and did not notice, even on Telos."

Darden smiled. "Yes, well. I suppose I am calmer than one might think I'd be, given half the galaxy is after us, I'm on a probably useless hunt for the Jedi that exiled me from the Order, and you're probably a spy." She shrugged. "But it did some good after all, talking to Atris, for all I did not look for it."

The Handmaiden had not looked away and had not blushed when Darden accused her of being a spy. Now she took a step closer to Darden. "I heard your conversation—it was not calm. If I may—what good did it do you?"

Darden held the girl's gaze. "The questions your mistress asked and the points she made were ones I had begun to ask and make myself, alone in my exile. Facing her, I realized the truth, and now I feel more certain of myself and my choices than I have in a long time."

The girl looked a little troubled. She bit her lip, then extended her hand to Darden. "There is an energy about you, a lightness in your movements. It is something I have seen in only the most disciplined and revered of the Echani weaponmasters, yet it comes to you with ease."

Darden shrugged. "I feel better than I have in a long time. More in touch with what's going on around me in the present, and less hung up on the past. More invested in the ones around me, and less lost in self-doubt."

"It shows in your features," the Echani girl told her. "It is beautiful to see."

She was so serious, this nameless servant. Darden shifted. "Look, do you have a name? It's awkward, calling you 'girl', or 'servant of Atris', or 'Handmaiden' or 'last of the Handmaidens' all the time."

The girl smiled, a little condescendingly. "Before entering Atris' service, yes, I carried a name, as all the children of the Echani do."

"But you don't carry it anymore, and you aren't going to tell me," Darden stated.

She shook her head. "It is not important. My title and rank is of consequence, not my name. I take value in Atris' service, not in myself."

Darden frowned. "But you're a person, with an identity and thoughts and feelings. You aren't just a servant. You ought to take value in yourself, too."

"We all have value in our oaths to others and the promises we make," the girl replied. "When we make that pledge, we are pledging ourselves to something greater. When importance is placed on the self, then by such acts the galaxy is unmade."

Darden kicked the barrel underneath her. "Hmm. There's some truth in that, though I've never seen it taken to such an extreme before. Is that what you think of me?"

The girl regarded her. "If reasons of the self are why you turned away, then yes, perhaps there was a judgment there, but it was not intended as an attack."

Darden looked hard at her. The ambivalence of the girl's words, her respectful tone, and her strange stowing away made her a very interesting character to Darden. "Atris thinks that I lost myself when I disobeyed the Council and went to war," she said slowly. "Do you?"

The Handmaiden frowned and dropped her gaze. "I do not know. That is a question you must ask yourself."

Darden stood up and walked to the girl. "I know what I think," she said, very softly. "I want to know what you think, last of the Handmaidens."

The girl was silent.

Darden dropped it, for now. "What were you doing, before I came in?"

"I am training," the girl said. "So that if danger should strike, my body and my reflexes will be prepared." She stopped, and smiled shyly. "That, and I had forgotten how long hyperspace travel can be. If I do not have something to focus on, I fear my sanity will erode as well."

"We're en route to Onderon," Darden told her. "Atton says we'll be there in about ten days. The ship ought to be on autopilot by now, for the time being. If you don't feel like sleeping yet, or perhaps tomorrow, you could go find him. He's always up for a game of pazaak. I was just playing with him, earlier."

The Handmaiden's eyes grew hard. "The pilot with the Echani training you were not aware of. My sister told me, before you found me. I do not trust him, exile. I will play no games with him."

Darden sighed. "Let's be honest, here," she said wearily. "This trip is full of distrust. I have a good reason to distrust everyone onboard, even the utility droid and including you." She paused. "Everyone else really does distrust everyone else."

The Handmaiden frowned. "That is untrue," she argued. "Your words imply you trust everyone onboard, despite reasons you have to the contrary. And the Iridonian trusts you." She smiled a bit, and her eyes went distant. "We heard much of the Iridonian when we served Atris," she told Darden. "Atris believed the Iridonian held the knowledge to restoring Telos."

"Yes, and so she siphoned power from his network," Darden said. She tried to keep the sharpness out of her tone for the girl's sake, but the Handmaiden shifted uncomfortably nonetheless.

"The reasons for such siphoning of power are complicated," she said defensively. "And I do not know all the answers. But there is something greater being achieved. The teachings at the Academy must be preserved, even if it draws strength from Telos."

Darden kept her voice steady with difficulty. "Bao-Dur spent a lot of time preserving the strength of Telos. I didn't—but I certainly spent a lot of effort."

The Handmaiden bowed. "So I understand. I honor you for what you have done for Telos, and the Iridonian."

"So does Atris," Darden said, frowning thoughtfully. "At least, according to you she acknowledges Bao-Dur's part of what's been done. She thought he was the key to saving Telos?"

The Handmaiden looked out of the door of the cargo hold, towards the garage where they could still hear Bao-Dur working on the ship. Now it was a hammer—beating the hull back into a beautiful shape. "Yes," she said. "His skill with machines is something beyond which most can aspire to. His shield technology surpasses the designs of even the most skilled of Echani power architects. I do not know if you realize what it means to have such a one respect and follow you," she added, turning to Darden again with a little more confidence than she had heretofore displayed. "The Iridonian allied himself with no one on the entire world of Telos, yet he will follow you at the risk of his own life. His stance, in many ways, mirrors yours. Where he walks, he carries a world upon his shoulders. And, like you, I do not know if he has ever faced it."

Darden went still. Malachor flashed before her eyes again, and this time much more strongly, she remembered that she had given the order, but Bao-Dur had pushed the button to activate the weapon he had designed. She stepped a pace to the Handmaiden and grabbed her shoulder, tightly. "You see much, last of the Handmaidens. You can discuss what you see with me. But promise me now that you won't talk about it with Bao-Dur. I don't think it'd go over too well."

The Handmaiden looked up at her without fear. She reached up with her hand and took Darden's wrist in a grip of iron. "I will respect your wishes, and his," she said, removing Darden's hand. "Forgive me, but do not threaten me. I am not afraid of you."

Darden stepped back and shook her head. "I was not trying to frighten you. It's important to me, though, that Bao-Dur face his past in his own time, not yours."

The Handmaiden nodded. "And you, exile?"

Darden smiled wearily. "The minute I stepped aboard that Republic ship I was coming back to face my past, though I didn't know it. With every day I am forced more to own who I am and who I was. And I find increasingly that to choose to be nothing in the future is no longer a choice I can make. Whatever I decide, I shall become something—to my companions, and to the galaxy."

The Handmaiden bowed. She opened her mouth voicelessly again, and Darden looked at her. The girl was very shy, very uneasy with her, she realized. She was outspoken enough, but Darden wondered what she might say and ask if she were truly at ease.

So she started stretching, slowly. "Hey—you were training. Would you like to show me some of what you practice?"

The Handmaiden's eyes lit up, but she hesitated. "Training is something reserved for certain caste members of the Echani..."she stopped then, and nodded. "But I do not see the harm in instructing you in some basic principles." She started stretching, too. "I do not understand how you and Atris fight, but I will instruct you on how Echani children are raised on warfare."

"I'd appreciate it," Darden said.

The Handmaiden started some simple kicks and punches, limbering up after several minutes of conversation. "All Echani principles rely on foundations," she told Darden. "If one does not understand even the most basic of fighting moves, it is not possible to understand the higher tiers. It is similar to learning the alphabet before being able to use words, then sentences."

"Or learning syllogisms and fallacies before being able to use them in speech and reasoning," Darden said, nodding. "I'm ready when you are."

She stood to face the Handmaiden, and the Handmaiden faced her. "As a foundation, I will instruct you in our elementary movements," she told Darden. "The body itself is the first weapon you must master. It is not something that can be described—let us duel, you and I, and that should teach you more than my words can. Use only your hands and feet to strike at me—nothing else, or our combat shall be over. Do not resort to using any items or any Force techniques you may possess—such things will obstruct learning." As she spoke, she began removing her tunic. Darden blinked and looked nervously towards the door.

"Wait—no items? You mean no clothes, too?"

"Duels among the Echani are rituals," the girl explained, with some puzzlement, as she stood there in her underwear. "They do not allow for armor or anything that restricts movement."

Darden hesitated. Then she nodded. "Fine. But—"she hit the button to seal the cargo hold door. "Let's keep this private."

She began taking off her clothes, and the Handmaiden watched her. "Are you not comfortable with your body, then, exile? It is the first thing to learn."

Darden shook her head. "It's not that. It's—"she wondered how to explain to this sheltered child that she'd never hear the end of it if Atton was walking by to the dormitory and saw her in her underwear. Again. "Never mind. Let's just do this."

"You are ready?"

"I am."

The Handmaiden smiled. "Very well. I shall match my movements to resist your efforts. And do not hold back, or I will hurt you."

Darden didn't hold back, but she did move more slowly than usual, watching the Handmaiden for the new style she was trying to learn. The Echani girl's movements were lighter, more rapid and efficient than Darden was used to. In comparison, Darden's own hand fighting seemed brutal and savage. The Handmaiden was lightning fast, and Darden had to be lightning fast, too, to block her and retaliate. As Darden watched her, and fought her, she changed her style as she changed her words to speak to the girl in response to her serious formality.

Darden fell into the new rhythm of the style. Blow and parry, duck and dodge. And as she fought the younger girl, she became less aware of footwork and form, and more aware of the Handmaiden herself. She held the girl's ice-blue gaze and their battle slowly shifted into more of a dance. At last, the Handmaiden called a halt.

She bowed to Darden. "You fought well indeed," she said, pleased. "You have caught the principles of the style by watching and anticipating my movements. Perhaps—some other day, when you have thought about and used what you have learned today, I could show you more."

Darden nodded. "But for now—it's been a long time since Telos. I need rest, and so do you."

She stooped for her clothes, but the Handmaiden's voice stopped her. "Before you go—there is something I must know. Why did you go back—face trial?"

Something in the quality of the girl's voice—a vulnerability, a curiosity—made Darden release her clothes and stand up straight, leaving her defenses down and her stance open before Atris' servant. "I respected the Council too much to deny them an explanation for what I did," she replied. Anticipating the girl, she added, "Or to attack. And maybe—maybe I needed to hear their accusations, and answer them."

The girl was still. "I see," she said after a moment. "It was always something I was curious about—to walk to one's own sentence willingly. It is a brave thing."

Darden stooped for her clothes then. "Well," she said quickly. "I'll leave you now. Try to sleep. If you need anything, come find me." She finished pulling on her pants and took her boots in her hand. She opened the door, but before she left, she looked back. "Thank you, for my training—Handmaiden."

There was no more avoiding Kreia. Darden walked into the dormitory and she was waiting, still fuming. She addressed Darden at once. "How many more do we intend to gather to us? This ship is not the galaxy—there is only so much room."

Darden sighed and sat down on one of the beds, dropping her boots beside it. "This ship is not the galaxy," she said. "But half the galaxy is after this ship. As many as are crazy enough to help us will find they're welcome here."

"Then prepare for an army, I think," Kreia snapped, "For it seems many more will come in time. They will follow you because you are a leader. Their kind always need such, even when the figure deserves no such obedience."

Darden frowned. "Look, whatever Bao-Dur might say, I'm no general. Not anymore. I'm not anybody's commander. What makes you think the others obey me? It seems to me they're just helping out. I don't know why, but—"

Kreia cut her off, impatient. "I am not so blind. I see what they see, hear their voices when they speak to you, and notice the change when they speak to others."

Darden sat forward, staring at her teacher. "You're really upset about this, aren't you? Kreia, why are you angry?"

Kreia subsided. She sat on the bunk opposite Darden, looking suddenly very small. "I know many things, and I know what I am not—I am no leader," she said, quietly. "I speak with a voice that will never move others. I speak with a passion that goes unheard." Her anger seemed to have diminished, and she continued, in a more characteristic, lecturing tone. "They obey you because you are a leader, and perhaps something more. Have you noticed what has been happening? Have you felt it in them?"

Darden looked down at the floor, suddenly uncomfortable. "I've noticed something," she admitted. "Bao-Dur gave up Telos to come with me. I'm not sure the Handmaiden really was given leave to come by Atris—or else why would she have hidden? Atris would've just commanded me to bring her along." She paused. "Then there's Atton. He's _different_ than when we met. Not so much in what he says—but _how_ he says it is changing. More so every day."

Kreia's lip curled contemptuously. "The fool dances in your shadow for your favor," she sneered.

Darden leapt up and started to pace. "Shut _up_!" she cried. "Don't talk about it that way! I wish—I don't know why he just won't go. I've given him a chance twice already! There's nothing for him here. I can't—I can't give him what he wants from me, and all he's likely to come by is a hell of a lot of trouble that's got nothing to do with him!"

She turned to Kreia for help, but the old woman was staring at her coldly. "You are disturbed upon the fool's account," she said stonily. "Your feelings betray you, _Jedi_. Your influence over Atton is great indeed; do not allow him the same power over you. But he is not the only one. The servant of Atris worships you. The alien obeys you. Even within the machines, there are echoes. Watch them carefully, see their patterns, and recognize the strength in it. Influence can be a weapon, one that you may need before your journey is over."

Darden shook her head. "No," she said flatly. "They're helping me, and I appreciate it. I'd like to call them friends. They're not tools."

Kreia curled her lip again. "I care not which word you use, so long as you make use of that you forge. That was Revan's way, I believe. It was a strength."

Darden deliberately took her place on her bunk again. "What do you mean?"

"Have you never asked yourself how Revan took the Republic and Jedi beneath her, how she made them hers?" was the question.

"I don't have to ask myself," Darden replied. "She spoke and we listened. I remember her presence, and how her conviction carried me, and all of us."

"Ah, but to make officers turn on their own people, to bomb innocent worlds to make pacts…strong influence indeed," Kreia argued. "And where did these Sith teachings come from? And why did Revan embrace them so strongly? So many questions, yet the answers are few."

Darden frowned, puzzled. "She went to Korriban. Teachings of the Sith came from there, right?"

"Oh, did they?" Kreia asked. "No, Revan met no Sith empire, yet she learned their teachings. Many have mistaken the soldiers beneath Revan, the machines that were constructed, to be the 'Sith'. They are wrong—the Sith is a belief. And what Revan formed was not an empire, but something else—yet how she did it was curious. And I suspect the answer to that question is tied to another—how was Revan able to corrupt so many, so quickly?"

Darden had suspected on Telos that Kreia had a special interest in Revan. Her suspicions seemed to be supported by this conversation, and she wondered if Kreia would tell her more. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Not a one," Kreia said. "But we shall see where our journey takes us, I think. And see how many answers we come across, yes?"

Darden took off her armor and pulled on her long gray tunic from her pack. She lay back on her bunk. "I guess," she said, staring at the ceiling. "Right now I'm more interested in the answers on this ship. Kreia, why don't you like the Handmaiden?"

"There are countless reasons," Kreia said. "And I have neither the time nor the patience to list them all."

Darden turned over so her back was to Kreia. "Then don't," she murmured. "But she's offered to help us, so it's the same story it was with Atton. I'll settle for a lack of open hostility. We all have to work together."

"Do you think to turn her from Atris' will?" Kreia demanded. Darden turned back to face her. "If so, I hope your arrogance will prove true in time. But I will abide her presence. She may have her uses."

Darden made a face. "Of course, she's a tool. But why do you want to use her?"

"Because Atris is a threat," Kreia answered, still sitting ramrod straight and glaring at Darden. "As much as she would try to use us against you, so may we use her servants against her. Do not see every enemy—see them instead as an ally, whether they realize it or not. This situation may yet work to our advantage."

Darden groaned. "Kreia, don't worry, okay? I'm not just sitting back and letting her spy for Atris—if she is, and like I said, I have my doubts. I'm watching her, just like I'm watching all of you."

"That is the most to be done until events unfold," Kreia admitted. "As I am sure they will, in time."

Darden shifted on the bunk. "Why are you so sure Atris is a threat?" she asked. "She's angry and afraid and deluded, but a threat? Do you know her?"

Kreia shifted, too, so her face was still more shadowed by her hood. "Atris herself is not as familiar to me as perhaps she should be. Yet I feel I know her, yes."

"How so?"

"Because Atris' path is one I walked long ago, and it is a chapter of my life that has been read and closed," Kreia told her. "She has taken the first steps, I think—we shall see," she added, more softly. Then louder, "You say you felt it—the righteous anger, the spoken judgments, the lack of forgiveness."

Darden frowned. Was Kreia implying that Atris was falling to the Dark Side? "You went through all that?" she asked.

"I was a historian once," Kreia said. "Gathering the relics of the Jedi, learning the ancient mysteries. Always, there were more questions. One quickly learns that the Jedi code does not give all the answers. If you are to truly understand, then you will need the contrast, not adherence to a single idea. That is why Atris and the others blamed me, sentenced me. They believed me responsible for Revan's fall."

At this Darden sat bolt upright again. "You! Were you the one they spoke of in the holo of my trial? Did you train Revan?" she demanded.

Kreia turned away. "You have already asked much. I do not wish to speak of this any longer."

But she'd said too much, for once. Renewed suspicion was humming through Darden like a current, and though she had been almost ready to fall asleep, now she again felt that the old woman she faced, her teacher, was perhaps an enemy. "Fine, then answer me this, instead," she said firmly. "If Atris and the Council cast you out, then how come she didn't mention you on Telos? How come she didn't speak to you, too, or warn me? How come she didn't think about you twice?"

"Ignorance," hissed Kreia. "And perhaps she does not remember, or care. It is of no consequence to me."

Darden stood. "You're lying to me, Kreia."

Kreia didn't look at her. "Am I?" she said lazily. "Then perhaps you should know. There are techniques in the Force where one can cloud the memory of others, make their presence so small as to be unnoticed. On Telos—on the other worlds where we shall find these Jedi—there is much life and death, and sensing such things is difficult. As I said, it is of no consequence to me—or them."

Darden shook her head. "No. If you are using this technique it means you want to hide, so it follows that it is of some consequence to you whether you are seen." She paused, and regarded Kreia. "Or perhaps—seen traveling with me? You aren't using this technique on me, though."

Kreia's mouth turned up. "If I did, you would never know, so my words only carry as much worth as you believe them to. But perhaps you will understand this—perhaps it is important to me that you see me and my actions, uncloaked. It is important that your judgments, whether they be good or bad, stem from seeing me as I truly am."

"Oh, from the wealth of information you're giving me," Darden retorted. She stared down at Kreia. "Would you hear my judgment, then?"

Her teacher inclined her head.

"I think you're hiding something from me," Darden said. "I think you have an agenda—that you've had an agenda since you rescued me for whatever reason in whatever manner from that HK-50 unit on the _Harbinger_. I think you don't want Atris, or the other Jedi we're going to find, to know that you're traveling with me—not because you're ashamed of what you've done or embarrassed to encounter them again, but because you cannot risk what they might tell me about you." She paused, and looked down at Kreia's handless wrist. "I think you care about me," she admitted. "—But I also know that the one and only time I've completely trusted and believed you is when you implied you had been a Sith—and a powerful one."

"And this is what you think?" Kreia said, seeing that Darden had done. Then, unexpectedly, she laughed. It was a dry, amused sound that sent chills down Darden's spine. "You are learning quickly, indeed. Distrust is an effective shield and should be carried always."

Darden shook her head and started to pace again. "Tell me of the Sith hunting us," she demanded. "I know you know."

"I know of them, yes," Kreia agreed, "And how much like beasts they have become. Combined, united against the Jedi, they command legions of Sith. But above these legions, there are three who must be stopped—as long as any one of them lives, then we—and all life are doomed."

She paused. "One bathes in pain, feeds on it for sustenance. The other has ceased being a living being, so consumed by hunger that he has forgotten his own flesh. And the last is a creature of betrayals, for without such things, there is no hope."

Darden stopped, thinking over the old woman's words. She looked down at Kreia's stump again. "The one that bathes in pain—he did that to you. We met him on Peragus."

"Sion," Kreia said. "Yes. Of pain, he has learned much. Of knowledge, of teaching, he knows nothing. Like the others, he was spawned by the horrors of the Mandalorian Wars. He exists solely to spread his pain to all Jedi, everywhere."

Darden started pacing again. "And what do the others live for?" she asked. "The one consumed by hunger?"

"Silence!" Kreia hissed. "The less said of that one, the better—even a stray thought may draw him, and it is possible that he cannot be defeated. He is one who has learned the greatest of the Sith teachings—and it enslaved him. Until you are ready, we must not seek him out."

"Fine," Darden said shortly. "But the third—the traitor?"

Kreia's mouth quirked up again. "Even now she is difficult to see," she said softly. "She must remain hidden for now until the time is right—if not, then all our efforts will be for nothing. In this, you must trust me. If she is exposed too soon, then this war will be over before it has begun."

Darden took in a deep breath. She stood, looking down at Kreia. Indeed, the old woman had said too much, because Darden thought she could hazard a guess at this third Sith Lord, this one that did not seek to consume, did not seek to spread pain, but rather worked in the shadows, through betrayal. She felt cold all over. It made sense now, that Kreia should have sought her out, protected her from Sion. Kreia had already implied that she had been cast out by the Sith as she had been by the Jedi. Now, Darden thought, it could be that she sought revenge on her ungrateful apprentices, these lords of hunger and pain. It could be that she sought to use Darden as a weapon against them even as she urged Darden to use their other companions in the same way.

She turned on her heel. "I'll sleep in the med bay again," she said brusquely, and walked out.

Killing the old woman now would be premature, she thought. Kreia moved in the shadows, but the pain Darden had felt when her hand had been cut off had been real enough. She might really be bound life-to-life with the woman. And if Kreia sought to use her to exact vengeance on the Sith Lords that had cast her out, she could turn her plan on its head. They wished to kill her, anyway. She could use Kreia to find them, to learn how they might be defeated. She would learn everything Kreia would teach her, and from it learn of the woman behind the words. And then, when Kreia turned on her, she would be ready.

* * *

_EBON HAWK_, WOMEN'S DORMITORY

The old woman watched the exile go, and smiled to herself. Her pupil was clever, far cleverer than she had anticipated. Unless she was very much mistaken, the exile guessed what she was and knew exactly what she was dealing with.

Her logical mind, the mind of a tactician and a general, whatever lies she told herself, would not permit disposing of a resource before she had utilized it to its utmost capabilities. Also, she thought that the risks of killing the old woman, for the time being, far outweighed any possible gains. The old woman had gone to great trouble and sacrifice to ensure that she should feel so. Things would only improve now. Now they were master and student in more than name only. Ever after this the exile would seek to gain knowledge of her, to gain the advantage. And when the time came, the pupil would strike out against the master, if she proved strong enough.

She could not apprehend the magnitude of the old woman's plan, yet. How could she? The exile didn't know what she was, what it meant. She was beginning to feel it, however, especially on the pilot's account. The old woman considered that perhaps she had made a mistake, pressing the fool into continuing with them. It was pathetically obvious how he longed for the exile, how he craved her good opinion and desired her wellbeing. The old woman had seen this, and once she had found what 'Atton' was, sought to use it as leverage against him. So long as the fool continued with them, he would protect the exile with his last breath, and that was above all things important. But the old woman had not anticipated that after years of solitude and a lifetime rigidly adhering to the Order's dry and dusty principles, the exile would be so easily swayed by another's regard for her. She sought to protect him now, even as he sought to protect her. It was a crude shade in the exile's mind the old woman had not thought to find—sentimentally if not physically so, yet. If her feelings continued to develop, in whatever way, the old woman thought that she might yet see the time when it was proved beyond doubt that keeping the fool had been an error, fatal to her plan for training the exile at least, if not to her plans as a whole.

Those were still progressing, whatever the exile felt for Atton, or indeed, the alien or the disgustingly simple servant of Atris. Nothing, save the Force, could stop them. Thinking of this, though, the old woman's confidence misgave her as it occurred to her, not for the first time, that the Force might be stronger with this lost one she had endeavored to manipulate, this one more war veteran and Jedi than woman, that even now breathed and called allies to her, than it was with her.

* * *

_EBON HAWK_, MAIN HOLD

Atton was on his way to the men's dormitory when he caught a glimpse of gray in the med bay. He stopped and looked in the open door. Darden was curled up on the med bay cot, under a thin sheet. The shoulder of her loose gray tunic was slipping down, and as he watched she frowned and kicked, turning over restlessly in her sleep. A thin sheen of sweat covered her skin.

It was quiet in the cargo hold. No noise could be heard from the garage. Atton thought he was probably the only one awake on the ship. He couldn't help but think—Darden turned again, and bit her lip in her sleep and shook her head. Distress, worry, fear—he could feel them coming off her in waves, even in her sleep, and as she gave a little sob, Atton suddenly felt disgusted with himself. He stepped forward and punched the panel next to the med bay, closing the door on her. She'd gone there to sleep badly in peace. No one needed to witness that, least of all him with his—he shook his head and walked through to the garage.

He'd been wrong. That Bao-Dur guy was still awake, kneeling in front of the trash compactor. As Atton walked in, he closed the droid's casing and patted him on the 'head'. "You wouldn't guess it from the outside, but it looks like you've been through a lot," he told the droid.

The astromech beeped something cheerful, and Bao-Dur nodded gravely. "I'll bet. I'm all done with you. If anything comes loose, let me know, and I'll put it back in place."

He stretched up. "Is she asleep?" he asked, then, without looking at Atton.

"Darden? Yeah. I think she had another fight with the old witch."

"Do they often fight?"

Atton shrugged. Bao-Dur let it pass. "Think I might turn in myself," he said.

"I was on my way to the dorm, too."

"Hey—can I ask you something?" Atton said, suddenly looking at the Iridonian with more interest as they headed back together towards the men's dormitory.

"What is it?" Bao-Dur asked.

"Darden," Atton said. "You know her from way back, don't you? How much do you know about her, really?"

Bao-Dur looked sharply at him. "The General? Yeah, during the war. If that's what you mean by way back. Can't say I know too much about her, though."

"Better than anyone else on this ship. Just give me your opinion, okay?" He hesitated. "And don't laugh," he added.

They'd gotten to the dorm. Bao-Dur took off his shirt and lay down on a bunk. "Atton, I'm tired."

Atton took off his own shirt and lay down on his bunk. "I was just wondering if you thought, maybe, she and I might—"

Bao-Dur stared. "You're being serious," he said, flatly.

Atton glared. "You said you wouldn't laugh!"

Bao-Dur blinked and shook his head wonderingly. "You _are_ being serious. Atton, she was a general. I was just a tech." He shrugged. "Your guess is about as good as mine."

"Well, what's your guess then?" Atton pressed.

Bao-Dur turned over with a distinct air of washing his hands of the matter. "I'm going to sleep," he said. "There's a lot of work to do in the morning."

"Hey, I'm being serious, here!" Atton protested.

Bao-Dur didn't answer. But there was a beeping from the door that sounded remarkably like laughter. Atton sat up so fast he hit his head on the top of the bunk. "You're laughing at me?" he demanded of T3-M4. "I'll put you on the scrap heap, you walking tin can!"

Then Bao-Dur did laugh. Atton fumed, but honestly, he didn't blame him much.

* * *

**A/N: Coming Soon: Onderon doesn't like Darden Leona much, either. After a terrible space battle, Darden is forced to land on Dxun and walk quite literally over old battlegrounds. And there are old foes present, too. The Mandalorians are rebuilding. Darden Leona encounters a new Mandalore, a mysterious unnamed masked man who strangely enough, despite their mutual past animosity, does not seem to want to kill her. Instead, this new Mandalore from nowhere seems to want to befriend her, to aid her, though Darden can only guess at what the old campaigner might want in exchange. Darden Leona must prove herself to him before he will extend his help, and she must ally with those she once called enemies.**

**Thanks for reading. Double-thanks for reviews!**

**May the Force be With You,**

**LMSharp**


	13. Warring for Mandalorians

**Disclaimer: Canderous Ordo isn't mine, either, more's the pity.**

* * *

XII.

Warring for Mandalorians

The days passed slowly in hyperspace. Meditating with Kreia and trying to forget that she was probably plotting how to take Darden down. Helping Bao-Dur and Teethree fix different parts of the ship. Practicing lightsaber form with her vibroblade. Sometimes sparring with the Handmaiden, or playing pazaak with Atton. Darden was bored, much of the time, though not as bored as she had been under house arrest on Citadel Station. She tried to cheer herself up by remembering that she'd soon be much more excited than she wanted to be, when they landed on Onderon and dozens of people, like as not, showed up to try to kill them.

Still, finally one morning Atton told her that they'd be coming out of the hyperspace lanes into the Onderon system that afternoon. Darden went to tell the others.

Atris' servant rarely left the cargo hold Atton had assigned her to. Always, she was training, always seeking to improve. To train her reflexes so she could confront danger, she said. Darden thought, though, that the girl trained so hard in hopes that when she returned to Telos, her dedication and prowess would recommend her to her half-sisters, and maybe lose her the disgrace of being called last among them. In any case, she was in the cargo hold, training, when Darden came looking.

She always insisted on training and sparring in her underwear. Darden sighed. "You're still in—look, do you think you could put some clothes on?" she asked the girl.

"Oh—greetings, exile," the girl said. "I fail to understand the problem. I know the coreward systems have customs concerning…modesty, but when training, such customs are not practical or efficient."

Darden shook her head. "I disagree. Look, we're landing on Onderon in a matter of hours. Because you're with me, we're likely to be attacked by someone when we get off the ship. When that happens, you're not going to have time to take off your clothes and unencumber yourself. If you don't train with clothes on, you're crippling yourself."

The girl looked thoughtful. "I can see no fault in your reasoning," she said after a moment. "I do have bulkier clothes." She went over to her pack by her cot, but instead of pulling out her Echani tunic and pants—the uniform she'd worn serving Atris—she pulled out gray robes not unlike the ones Darden had tucked away in the bottom of her pack. She pulled them on, and as she did, a little color came into her pale, pale cheeks. When she was finished, she brushed the robes with her hands and swallowed. "Will these do?" she asked shyly.

"Those—those are Jedi robes," Darden said.

The girl turned away. "They suffice for training purposes. They belonged to my mother."

That would be the mother that wasn't her father's wife and the mother of her half-sisters, then, Darden thought. "Ah. I see. Who was your mother?"

"She was the one my father followed to war—she was a Jedi," the girl replied. "These are her robes. I have not worn them since they came into my possession. They are the only thing of her that I possess."

Darden calculated in her head. If the war the girl spoke of was the Mandalorian Wars—why, she might be even younger than she looked. It was very possible that the Handmaiden was not yet twenty. "Do you miss her?" she asked softly.

The Handmaiden shook her head. "I never knew her. There is no absence of presence when there is nothing there to begin with. I miss only that I never knew her at all. And what it was about her that caused my father to follow her to war."

It was strange, too, Darden thought, that the Handmaiden was thinking of her mother now, had brought her robes along and was wearing them. Her mother the Jedi that had gone to war, like Darden and so many others. She didn't tell the Handmaiden it was strange, though. She figured the girl had to work through her thoughts on her own, especially considering her position. So instead, she offered the girl more material to work with.

"We've got a few hours before we come out of hyperspace," Darden said. "Would you like to spar? With clothes, if you please. Have to keep ready for attacks off-ship."

"I shall honor your request," the Handmaiden agreed.

They fought. Darden was starting to get a sense for the _Handmaiden_'s style, if not the Echani style she was teaching her. She was as direct and powerful in combat as she was in conversation. Her blows and kicks had amazing force and conviction behind them. They were beautiful in their simplicity and perfect execution, if not incredibly original. Also, by now, the girl was starting to get to know Darden. She moved almost before Darden did to counteract blows. They fought for perhaps a quarter of an hour before the Echani girl called a halt.

"You do well," she complimented Darden, "But I do not think you are ready for further instruction. Each movement of our arts demands some time to use the art in battle, or to examine how it may best be used in battle."

Darden shook her head in wonder. "You're amazing—it's like you're starting to know what I'm going to do before I do it."

The Handmaiden looked pleased. "It is the way of the Echani to be able to read their opponents," she replied. "To know where an opponent is going to strike before it connects, anticipate it, and then strike against them. Echani battles are fought several minutes in advance—in many ways it is much like the game of dejarik played in the core systems. The most advanced among the Echani are able to predict the course of battles by months, and the most revered are said to be able to predict the paths of wars. Only Revan ever demonstrated such skill in war. And even as she slaughtered us, the Echani still respected her."

Darden thought. Considering the enemies she was up against, it might be handy to have that kind of read on her opponents. "Can you teach me how to think ahead like that?" she asked. "It could be useful."

The girl blinked and looked at Darden. "But—you are already doing it. Did you not know?"

"What?"

The Handmaiden's eyes lit up with admiration. "If you do not know you are doing it, then training will make you a dangerous opponent, indeed. Come—as we fight more, I will teach you. Do not think about predicting my movements—react instinctively."

Again she came at Darden. Darden Leona reacted, just so. She found as she fought the Echani girl that she didn't _have_ to think about where to move to counter. She _knew, _because she knew the Handmaiden, or was starting to. She realized when the Handmaiden started using more complex movements, more powerful strikes- that she had known the girl would do this. There was a joy about it that she felt, just for a moment, because she felt that she understood how the girl saw art in this.

Finally the girl called a halt again. She was smiling broadly. "You are doing better," she praised. "At first, I was afraid that your awareness of your own ability might ruin it, but that is not the case."

"No—what you call prediction I call knowing my opponent—it's easier than I thought," Darden told her.

"You learn quickly," the girl said. "Perhaps it is your connection to the Force that allows such things, but I do not think so. You fight as an Echani warrior fights—always in the future."

Darden smiled at her, and thrust back her hair. "I'm going to hit the fresher," she said. "Thanks for the lesson. It's always fun fighting with you."

After showering and redressing in her armor—for some reason she felt like she'd need it, today—Darden went around to Kreia and Bao-Dur and informed them of their imminent arrival on Onderon. Then she went up to the co-pilot's seat.

There were duties aboard the _Ebon Hawk_. Sweeping and mopping the decks. Repairing what the droids on Peragus hadn't. Washing food trays and cleaning the synthesizer and the fresher. Beyond that, Darden had duties to Kreia as a student. Even if Kreia was a Sith Lord trying to shape Darden in her image and use her as a tool against the others, there were things to be learned from her. Every day Darden allocated time to sit with Kreia. Sometimes they meditated—felt the ship around them and the galaxy around it—how all was permeated with the Force. Sometimes Kreia asked her questions—posed moral hypotheticals and had Darden answer. She was rarely satisfied with Darden's replies, usually finding that Darden's sense of responsibility to and for others weakened her. Sometimes, though, when Darden demonstrated extraordinary conviction, or showed that she often thought on multiple levels, several of them utilitarian, she was permitted to escape the dormitory without lecture. Darden had taken on, in addition to daily chores and learning from Kreia, talking to the Handmaiden about her past. Sparring with her, getting to know the girl. She felt it important that Atris' clear-eyed, serious-minded servant—she that wanted to understand the Force so badly- realize that Atris had misrepresented her.

It didn't stop the boredom, spending so much time doing self-imposed or necessary chores, whether it was with Kreia or Bao-dur or the Handmaiden. But it kept Darden busy most of the time. During her leisure hours before—on the journey from Peragus to Telos and for the first three or four days of this voyage—she had spent a lot of time tinkering with T3-M4 or bent over the workbench. But in the past four or five days Darden had found she was gravitating more and more towards the cockpit.

She didn't exactly know why. Atton still stared and made inappropriate comments that made her want to slap him. And he won two out of every three pazaak games they played because he was just so good at bluffing her into risking it when she shouldn't. But—it was different with him than the rest of her crew. Darden thought that might be it. Kreia was her teacher at times, at others her enemy. The Handmaiden asked so many questions, was so sheltered, that for the most part when Darden spent time with her she felt like a teacher herself, until she remembered that the girl might be spying. Darden had tried to breach the formal barrier between herself and Bao-Dur. She enjoyed his sense of humor and liked poking about problems with him. But he always called her General. _Always_. He was her soldier, even after all these years, and the most she could achieve with him was a sort of amiable boss/valued employee relationship.

That _was_ it, Darden thought. Atton was still annoying, sometimes, though she was building up a sort of resistance to the innuendo by now. But alone among the crew, he was her friend, and purely her friend. She could be herself around him and he took it in stride. There was something wonderfully freeing about it. So when she got a moment now, and she didn't absolutely need to be alone, she'd head up to the cockpit. Sometimes she'd play pazaak. Sometimes they'd talk—never about anything serious, never about history—just talk. Sometimes they would just sit. Darden liked those times best.

So when Darden did swing into the co-pilot's seat after telling everyone else about their approaching landing, Atton wasn't surprised or snide about it. He nodded greeting. "We ought to be exiting the lanes in an hour," he said. Then he took note of her armor, and frowned. "You looking for trouble?"

"I don't know," Darden told him. "I have a weird feeling. I can't stop thinking about the trouble on Onderon."

"They want to secede from the Republic," Atton said.

Darden shook her head. "They're _arguing _over whether or not to secede from the Republic," she corrected. "So far they haven't made up their minds yet. But the ill feeling there is hiking up prices for their flora and fauna and causing troubles for the Ithorians that want to use them to rebuild Telos. From what I can tell, their queen's still loyal, though. But the arguments are fierce. I heard a couple, from Onderonian travelers on Citadel."

"And you're hoping the arguing doesn't turn into fighting while we're here," Atton said. His eyes darkened.

Darden shrugged. "Last Jedi in the galaxy is a power piece if you're having a fight over how to govern your planet," she said. "I learned that much on Telos. And then there'll be the local Exchange—and if we stay too long there might be the Sith. Just—the safest place for me is in hyperspace. So enjoy the hour. I wouldn't count on the boredom lasting long."

"Gotcha," Atton said. Silence fell.

Time passed. By and by, Kreia came up to join them. Atton pulled out of the lanes at the end of the hour, and straight into a mess of ships. He pulled the _Hawk _around and looked at the squadrons and squadrons of ships. Most of them were old Onderonian military—Republic ships from the Mandalorian Wars. There were several, several freighters and passenger ships just parked in space, waiting.

"Well." Atton said, looking sideways at Darden. "This is Onderon. It looks like there's a long line to get into the Iziz Starport."

"Something feels wrong here," Kreia observed. "A great disturbance here in orbit…and again on the planet below."

"I hate it when I'm right," Darden muttered.

Atton nodded. Then something began beeping on the console. "I'm receiving a message from some Colonel Tobin," he reported. "Patching it through…"

A hard-faced, dark-eyed man with a stubbly chin came up on the cockpit holo-display. "The _Ebon Hawk,_" he said coldly. "I was told to expect your arrival. I don't know your business on Onderon, but it ends here."

"Threat!" Darden cried, "That's a threat!"

"Fighters!" Atton said.

Darden punched the comm. "Soldier, to the turrets!" she shouted. "You're needed!"

Then she ran herself to get to the turret. She heard Bao-Dur scramble in behind her.

"Who's attacking us?" he called.

"Some Colonel Tobin," Darden said. "Onderonian military. Don't talk; just shoot!"

Some things you don't forget. Darden had been in a couple of space fights since the Wars, but nothing like this, with an entire—or what seemed like an entire space army after her. Fighters swarmed like so many disturbed hive insects. There were larger ships, too. Carrier vessels. Darden swiveled up and down and around instinctively, firing and firing and firing the turret. She ignored the explosions that were dying men and women. She had to.

Atton took the _Ebon Hawk _around and between their attackers, searching for a way behind the blockade. But there were too many of them. The fighters just kept coming, and Darden kept shooting until her thumbs tingled. Once, twice, the _Ebon Hawk _shuddered. An alarm sounded.

"We've taken some hits!" Atton shouted over the comm. "I can outrun them and hide us on that jungle moon, or we can keep fighting! Your call, Darden!"

"Are you crazy?" Darden yelled back at him. "They have an army! Run!"

The ship swung around and Atton punched it. Darden kept at the turret, covering their retreat. The alarm kept ringing. But they were going to get away. Their fight with the Onderonian military had started another fight. Darden looked—and saw that a number of Republic vessels in the Iziz Starport line had started to come to the _Ebon Hawk_'s defense. They were fighting with Colonel Tobin's ships now, and there were more of them, and they were better equipped than the tiny _Ebon Hawk_.

Darden swore and climbed up out of the turret as Atton began taking them down through the atmosphere of the jungle moon he'd talked about. Bao-Dur came up, too.

"General," he said.

"Tensions are high between the Republic and Onderon," she said, still looking off to the back of the ship towards the space battle above. "They were after us, but I think firing on us might've had consequences worse than getting us stuck here for a while. Wherever here is."

Bao-Dur didn't answer, and Darden turned to him with a weary smile. "Thanks, Bao-Dur," she said. "You fought well. I'm glad I can trust you to come when I need you."

"Always," he said. He left, presumably to buckle down in the main hold for landing.

She gripped his shoulder, and turned to the cockpit. She passed Kreia and sat in the co-pilot's seat without a word, and strapped herself in. She looked over the moon's surface Atton was now skimming, losing speed, and looking for a place to land. The lush green jungle was pockmarked with innumerable clearings and rocky outcroppings where mountains rose tall and unforgiving. Darden took a deep, deep breath. Considering the way her life had been going lately, she thought bitterly, she really shouldn't be surprised.

Atton found an empty, but small clearing atop a mountain, surrounded by very thick jungle. He brought them down gently, but the ship seemed to sigh when he did it.

There was silence in the cockpit for a moment. Then Atton said, "You know, just once, I wish someone was glad to see us. But no, if it isn't weapons pointed at our heads, it's someone trying to blast us out of the sky."

* * *

ATTON

Darden seemed distracted, and more irritable than usual. She didn't spare him a glance. Merely clenched her fists and looked out the front window. "Stick to facts, not wishes," she said tightly. "It hurts less, and you get much more done. How badly is the ship damaged?"

Atton looked at the flashing red lights on the console and grimaced. "We were able to get here," he said. "So it's not too serious. It's not a good idea to fly back up and into hyperspace, though. I'm shutting down all unnecessary systems until we make repairs," he added, doing so. "It'll keep us from being a target."

"Right," Darden said, nodding jerkily. "The next thing to do is to determine exactly where we are."

Atton pulled up the planetary ecological readout on the piloting computer. "It looks like one of the moons of Onderon, not sure which one." Once again Atton wished he could access the navicomputer of this bucket. They were flying blind, in more ways than one. "It's mostly jungle and mountain. I did pick up the remains of an old outpost near here," he told her. "Maybe that's why there's all these clearings around—maybe they were once settlements."

"There were no settlements here," Kreia said suddenly. Her voice was harsh. "Those clearings were most likely once craters—or crash sites."

"Crash sites—" Atton began. He stopped, and turned in his chair to look at Darden. She'd paled beneath her tanned skin, and her posture was _rigid_.

"This is Dxun," Kreia said. "Where the Mandalorians began their crusade against the Republic The remains of whatever outposts you detected here are military ones. We should be careful."

Atton looked over the readouts again and frowned. Dxun—so this was it? He'd heard about Dxun, but he'd never been there. "This is where the Mandalorian Wars started?" he asked, Darden more than Kreia. "This doesn't look like much of a battlefield."

Darden barked out a single, mirthless laugh. Kreia stepped behind her. "Much is buried here," she told Atton reprovingly. "And there is much that should remain buried."

Darden shook herself. "Okay. So. We have a diagnosis on the ship. We know where we are. We need to get to Onderon. If Master Kavar's still in the system, that's where he'll be."

Atton shook his head. "Until the ship is repaired, we're not going anywhere, sweetheart. Unless you can find another route to Onderon, we should sit tight."

Kreia looked out the window thoughtfully. "There may be means to get to Onderon by another route," she muttered. "The Force has guided us here for a reason." Abruptly she announced, "We should explore our surroundings. There is…something here."

Atton was still looking at the ecological readouts. He frowned. "Something? Oh, there's something here all right. Predators. Not small flipdarters, but big, mean, nasty predators."

"Nevertheless, we should explore our surroundings," Kreia insisted. "That nearby outpost would be as good a place as any to begin."

Darden shrugged and stood. "If you think we'll find anything there, Kreia, we might as well go."

Atton stood. "Darden—I have to make repairs." They'd need the ship ready to go when all the people after her finally found them.

"Yeah," she said. "I know."

He looked at her. She was still pale. Her eyes were dangerously bright. He thought of the predators here, and cursed that Tobin guy that had attacked them so he couldn't go with her now. She'd been right. She'd need the armor. She needed a couple of good blasters, too. "If you go," he said finally, "Be careful. No telling what other ships were forced down in the battle."

"Yeah." She left without further word. Kreia remained.

"I have a feeling the ship will not be repaired until our business here is concluded," she said quietly. "Do I make myself clear?"

Atton's stomach clenched in hatred. "Yeah. I understand. Why take her through this place again?"

"This is where the Mandalorian Wars began," Kreia told him. "She fought here once, and there are things here she must see."

Atton stared out of the cockpit towards the hold. "Why didn't she say anything?" he asked, more himself than Kreia.

Kreia answered, scornfully. "Do you speak of all your battles? Or are there some you wish to forget?"

* * *

DARDEN

Darden strapped on her vibroblade and patted her blaster in its holster. Then she hoisted her pack up over her right shoulder. She'd filled it with a couple hundred credits, three medpacs, three extra power packs, some food, and her full water skin. Survival stuff.

She paused halfway to the cockpit and abruptly turned right. She knocked on the door frame of the cockpit. Atris' servant looked up. She was tense. "What has happened?" she demanded at once. "We were shot at. You summoned the Iridonian. There was a battle—"

Darden inclined her head. "Yes. The Onderon military shot at us. We ran, and now we're on Dxun. Maybe you've heard of it. Nearly always raining. Thick jungle. Lots of nasty animals with enormous teeth and bad tempers. We're going to be here awhile. Atton's making repairs. But Kreia thinks there's something here, so we're exploring. If you want to put your training to the test, come with me."

The Handmaiden bowed. "It would be my honor, exile," she said, smiling with excitement and retrieving her weapon. It was not quite a double vibroblade, not quite a spear, but something thin and graceful in between. The girl caught Darden looking at it. "It was my father's."

"Your mother's robes and your father's weapon," Darden said. "I guess you're ready for whatever's here, at least. Come on."

The two women went to the main hold. Bao-Dur was there, putting his own pack together. He stood straight when they entered. "General," he said. "You're going out into the jungle. I could help you, if you want."

Darden blinked. "I thought you'd want to stay here and help Atton with repairs," she said.

He shook his head. "It started here," he said quietly. "I never came, but it's something—I think I need to see it."

Darden looked away. "You're braver than I am," she said. "Come along if you want."

The Handmaiden watched her. "It is good to face what has happened, exile," she said, sounding a little confused. "A wound needs air to breathe in order to fully heal, does it not?"

Darden turned away from her. "Yeah, but festering flesh and oozing pus is never fun to look at," she muttered. "And I ought to know better than you." She barked out, "Kreia! If you're coming, let's go!"

She didn't really want the old woman along. If the two of them were lethally bonded, a malraas could leap out of a tree onto Kreia and kill them both at once. If they weren't—Kreia's access to her emotions at being here on Dxun was bad enough. Having her teacher witness them, and mock them, would be worse. But Kreia had definitely sounded like she expected to be exploring the moon with Darden.

Kreia and Atton came out of the cockpit, and Teethree rolled out from the engine room. Kreia took a place behind Darden with the Handmaiden and Bao-Dur. Darden nodded at Atton and Teethree. "You two fix up the ship," she said. "We'll be back."

"I'll try to keep you updated," Atton said.

"Do that," Darden told him. "We'll have to deal with predators and whatever's out there, but anybody looking for me is going to find you first, no matter how many systems you shut down. A ship's bigger than four people in a jungle. Keep the _Ebon Hawk_ locked down."

She didn't wait for him to say 'Be careful' one more time. She turned on her heel and left the ship. It was raining. But Darden didn't wait for the rain to stop. It was always raining on Dxun. She plunged through the deluge, ignoring the water that plastered her hair down and trickled into her armor. She heard the Handmaiden make a sound of disgust, but Bao-Dur and Kreia held their peace. "Keep as quiet as you can," she said to the Handmaiden. "The jungle's crawling with—yep—"she brought her blaster out and shot two of the cannoks barreling towards them. Bao-Dur gutted another, and the Handmaiden the fourth. "Those," Darden finished. "And worse. Cannoks and boma keep to the ground, but you'll want to keep an eye out in the trees for malraas."

"I understand," the Handmaiden said. "Lead on."

Darden's com-link beeped. A map appeared on the display. The surrounding area, as detected by the _Ebon Hawk. _Directions towards the outpost. Atton had sent them. Darden smiled. "We head north," she said.

It actually wasn't too bad, for all they were occasionally ambushed by two or three beasts. With Darden's blaster, Kreia's Force senses, and the Handmaiden's frankly phenomenal melee skills, the animals didn't pose much of a challenge. After the rain had completely soaked them, too, they soon ceased to mind it. The only really bad part was the wrecks. They were here and there—through the trees and in the middle of clearings.

Some of them were Mandalorian ships. Most were Republic. Sometimes, Darden saw broken down droids, or white skeletons moss was starting to grow over. She tried to ignore them, but every time she caught sight of one her stomach clenched, and she remembered another day on Dxun, where explosions had echoed through the jungle and the leaves of the trees had dripped blood, along with water. She didn't speak of it to her companions. But the Handmaiden and Bao-Dur watched her—the former with curiosity, the latter with compassion. And Kreia's mouth was tight.

By one of the wrecks, maybe half an hour into the jungle, the com-link buzzed. Darden hit it. "Hey—it's me," Atton said. "The space battle is still going on. The _Hawk_'s sensors just picked up a contact heading to the moon. Most of our ship's sensors are powered down, though, so that's about all I got. That ship may have landed nearby, though. Or it might be on the other side of the moon. So—just be ready for another friendly Onderon welcome."

Darden frowned. "Thanks. Be ready yourself. Over and out."

She wondered belatedly if she perhaps should have insisted that Bao-Dur stay at the ship. Teethree had a lot of firepower for a utility droid, but if an entire ship's crew found the _Ebon Hawk, _she didn't like having just him and Atton there to defend the ship, or to defend themselves. The Handmaiden saw her stance change.

"You are worried, exile. Does the ship's exposure concern you? Perhaps one of us should go back to strengthen the position in case of enemies."

Darden shook her head. "No," she said. "It'll be fine. We haven't seen a ship land, so it's probably not close by. And in that case, they haven't found the _Ebon Hawk, _and won't any time soon. Going back would just waste time, because I don't want anybody in this jungle alone."

The Handmaiden looked at her. "As you wish." She did not look entirely convinced, and by and by added. "Are you sure you would not do anything? Your stance—your expression—"

Kreia snorted. "She fears for the droid, and more, for the fool, servant of Atris." To Darden she added, "I have told you before: you weaken yourself with these ties to others."

Darden stared ahead and kept walking. "Yes," she answered her teacher coolly. "Unless it's my tie to you, and that's supposed to make me stronger, unless it kills us first." She shook her head. "We'll attract the predators, talking like this."

And indeed, only a snarling overhead warned Darden in time. She brought up her vibroblade and the leaping malraas impaled itself on the blade. Darden used her foot to push the feline off, grateful for the rain that would wash the blood off her armor. She wiped her blade on the grass.

They rounded the corner according to the map, and Darden stopped. She held up a hand, and pointed. Smoke was rising, not one hundred meters in front of them through the trees.

The com-link buzzed again. Darden hit it. "Yeah?" she whispered, irritated.

"The orbital fighting just ended," Atton reported. "That Colonel Tobin stirred up a mynock's nest when he took a shot at us. I'm still working on the repairs and I have to take down some systems, including sensors. So you'll have to do without me for a while." He paused, and his face on the display twitched. Then he forced a smile. "I know, you're crushed. "

Darden opened her mouth to answer, but he was gone. She blinked, unnerved for some reason by the expression on Atton's face right before that last sarcastic remark. She could do without him very well. She still had the map he'd sent her, and her companions were very capable. But she wished, all the same, that he'd been able to hold off cutting communications for a little longer.

She looked at the column of smoke. "Come on," she said to the others. "Something's crashed. Recently."

It was another ship. Not Republic, nor Mandalorian. Private. And three or four Duros were stirring from the wreckage. One of them spotted her.

He brought up his gun with a smile. Darden yelled out, "They're bounty hunters!"

For the next minute or so it was fighting, but the Duros were injured and shaky from the space battle and the crash. When it was over, Darden knelt by one of the bodies. She found a medal and a datapad on it. The medal indicated that these belonged to a Duros organization that called itself the Zhug 'family'. The datapad had a copy of the Exchange bounty on it. Darden blinked and swallowed when she saw the price this Goto out of Nar Shaddaa was offering for live Jedi. It was enough for someone to buy a moon. The price beneath it in smaller type—the price for a dead Jedi—was much lower, but still big enough that Darden knew dozens of hunters would be out to collect. Beneath the general bounty information, these particular members of the Zhug family had a few lines of type.

_Known Jedi: Darden Leona. Human female, early thirties. Green eyes, dark hair. Traveling in a Republic freighter known as the _Ebon Hawk. _Known to be traveling with a human male called by the name of 'Atton Rand', early thirties. Blue eyes, dark hair. Also a human female known as 'Kreia', age unknown, appearance unknown. Presume all armed, and extremely dangerous. Last seen: Telos IV. _

There followed the date of their departure from the Telos system. Darden guessed the Telosian sensors had tagged the _Ebon Hawk_'s ID codes on its way out. Then when those same codes had been recognized upon their entrance into the Onderon system, the Zhugs had headed straight for her. They obviously hadn't fared as well in the space battle, though, and had crashed here. The information they had they had probably obtained from the few Exchange guards or Czerka employees that had escaped Darden's general purge. Darden's lips tightened.

"This might be the ship Atton detected," she told the others. "But maybe not."

"Well, it's always fun when we don't know how many people are after us," Bao-Dur said.

"We're close to the outpost," Darden said. "Let's just go there, see what's to see, and get back to the ship. We can help Atton finish up repairs and find some way of sneaking onto Onderon."

She stood up and started off again. She drew near to Kreia. "They've tagged you with me," she said. "Atton, too. When we brought down the Exchange on Telos, the guards that got away must've blabbed."

"Next time you will not be so foolish as to leave potential enemies alive to plague you again," Kreia answered. "As to my identification, it matters not. The bounty hunters will still seek only to identify me—or the fool—in order to locate you."

Darden grimaced. "That doesn't make me much happier," she said.

The Duros spaceship had fallen away behind them, and now they came into sight of a Mandalorian cache. Beside it, Darden saw an armored corpse. She would have passed it like the others, but Kreia gripped her with her claw-like hand. "Stop!" she hissed. "That is not the skeletal remnant of a war long past. That is a recent kill. It appears that Dxun isn't as abandoned as we would be led to believe."

The Handmaiden drew close to the corpse and knelt. "The body has not been here these two days," she announced.

Beside her, Bao-Dur's face contorted. Darden felt cold, and the rain pelted her with new significance. "Mandalorians," she said. "There are Mandalorians here. Why would they be here? Why would they come back?"

"The past has a curious attraction to us all," Kreia said. "Perhaps he came in a small shuttle to revisit old battlegrounds. Perhaps not. But let us press forward. You may find the answers you seek."

"If it is battle that awaits us, I am ready," the Handmaiden said. "These predators are no challenge, nor were the Duros bounty hunters."

Darden hesitated, though. "Bao-Dur," she said. "If we meet Mandalorians—will you be all right?" she asked him.

The mechanic's jaw was tight and his eyes were cold. "I'm not going to let you face them without me, General," he replied.

"That's not an answer," she said. "If we encounter them, we aren't going to start shooting."

"I understand," he said. "The war is over. I will—I will control myself."

"See that you do," Darden told him.

They kept walking. They didn't have long to go. Just a few hundred meters away, down the path and to the northeast, right before they came to the outpost they had been trying to reach all this time, they saw a campfire. It didn't look like anyone was there, but Darden knew better. She walked right up to the flames, removed her vibrosword, and plunged it into the wet earth.

They materialized around her. Maybe eight or ten Mandalorians in full armor. Darden recognized the make of clan Ordo. "We've got you surrounded," one said.

"Yeah. I know," Darden answered him.

"I'm surprised you got this far—"he told her, with something like grudging respect. "The jungle doesn't usually let its prey go that easily. What are you doing here?"

"Us?" Darden demanded. "What are you doing here? The weather, the pests, the crash sites that represent failed battles, what is it with Mandalorians and this moon?"

"We claimed this moon decades ago when we reforged ourselves after Exar Kun's defeat," the leader of the sentry group replied. "Some of us call it home. Why are you trespassing here?"

Darden stood tall. "It was unintentional. They were shooting at us in the battle—we landed to make repairs. My friends and I were just scouting out the lay of the land to see if anyone was going to sneak up on us and try to kill us." She shrugged. "Trouble with things like that is you usually find what you're looking for. Who are you, anyway? Clan Ordo?"

The Mandalorians surrounding them began to mutter. "What do you know of Clan Ordo?" the leader demanded.

Darden was silent.

"I am a Mandalorian warrior," he said finally. "This area you are scouting is our territory. We have orders to escort you to our camp—our leader wants to speak to you."

Bao-Dur was tense. His eyes blazed. But Kreia said, "This may prove of use to us. Let us hear his words and see if they have any value."

Darden looked at the Mandalorian sentry troop leader. "What leader have the Mandalorians found in their defeat?" she asked him. "Lead on."

The 'outpost' Atton and Kreia had talked so much about was a fully functioning Mandalorian war camp, complete with old buildings, numerous barrels of supplies, and dozens and dozens of Mandalorians. Darden saw nearly fifty as she and her companions were led through the camp, and she knew there were likely many more about. It had stopped raining, for the meantime, though gray clouds still loomed darkly overhead with the promise of more bad weather. To the left and right Darden saw flags and banners. Those of Clan Ordo, but also—also those of Mandalore. She began to get a very, very bad feeling. There was a supplier. There was a relay dish. There were two or three groups training.

"They have the appearance of an army," the Handmaiden murmured to Darden. "An army in training, despite their small numbers."

Darden nodded. "Yes, but let's not talk about it for now." Their guide was undoubtedly listening.

He led them into what looked like a communications room. It was old. Twenty years at least. It had seen better days. But looking over supply readouts, planetary information on Onderon, and several communications messages from across the galaxy was another Mandalorian, armored like their guide, but better than him, too.

He turned, and Darden swallowed. The tall, powerful Mandalorian wore the mask she had last seen on Malachor V on Mandalore the Ultimate. Bao-Dur recognized it, too. He swore in Iridonian.

The man folded his armored arms "So. You're the intruder. Our sensors picked up your handiwork in space. I am Mandalore, leader of the Mandalorians."

Darden shook her head. "Mandalore was killed, ten years ago. Revan claimed his mask and hid it to ensure the Mandalorians never rebuilt. So. Who are you, really, and how did you get that?"

Darden caught a wave of amusement from the Mandalorian. "You fought, did you? I think you'll understand if I don't answer your questions. The leader of the camp usually asks questions of intruders. He doesn't answer them. It was only a matter of time before the Mandalorians chose a new leader. And they chose me."

"The Mandalorians were disbanded," Darden replied flatly.

"Scattered, perhaps, but we're still alive. Alive and rebuilding."

"Is that what you call it?" Darden demanded. "I'd bet there aren't more than a hundred of you out there. I've run into Mandalorians, over the years. I haven't met any that were much more than thugs since the war."

"Many Mandalorians have fallen from the path of honor and are now no more than common mercenaries," the man styling himself Mandalore replied, and now a trace of irritation had crept into his heretofore amused voice. "But that is changing."

"From here. What are you doing here? What is this place?"

The man in the mask laughed then. "You really don't get the whole interrogation concept, do you? Who are you?"

Darden hesitated. Then she answered. "This isn't an interrogation. I and my friends still have our weapons. You're wearing a scary mask, but you're alone in here, and I have three people with me. Sure, there's a whole camp of you outside, but right here, right now, you and me are on equal footing, as far as I can tell."

"That's not an answer."

"I don't get to know your name; you don't get to know mine," Darden said.

Mandalore laughed again. "Fine, fine," he said. "You're brave, whoever you are. Stupid, but brave. All right, I'll play along. This used to be the heart of the Mandalorian war effort. From this complex we commanded an armada that had the Republic on the run." He shrugged. "It didn't last."

"No." Then she hesitated. "But—I've always wondered. Then and now. Why Dxun?"

"Mandalorians have a rapport with the jungle," he answered. "Every moment is a struggle here, all creatures gripped in a constant war for survival. The sole purpose of the weak is to feed the strong. We train here and learn the lessons of the jungle. The beasts also help us keep our edge."

Darden looked at him, unsure about how to proceed. The man who called himself Mandalore didn't seem like he hated her. In fact, he was being downright friendly, for a Mandalorian. "What do you want?" she asked finally. "You can't have asked me here to debate philosophy about the weak and the strong. And if you're really not intent on killing us, we should head back to our ship and help the pilot with repairs. We have to get to Onderon somehow, even if we have to fight our way through the blockade."

Abruptly the mood shifted. Darden sensed Mandalore's interest sharpen. "Hmm. Your ship. That'd be the _Ebon Hawk_? It's not going to get through the blockade. But if you want transportation to Iziz, it so happens I have a small shuttle that's more than capable of running the Onderon military blockade. I make occasional trips to Iziz for information and supplies. I could give you a lift, but if you want to come with me you're going to have to prove your worth."

Darden stared at him. It was the _ship_, somehow. Not her. Because of the ship Mandalore hadn't killed her, was offering to help her. He knew the _Ebon Hawk, _knew what it could and couldn't do. Darden suddenly was much less concerned that they'd all die here. She didn't know what she had that this man wanted, but she had something, all right. She relaxed a little. "Why do I have to prove myself to you?" she asked. "If you want to give me a ride, I can pay you for your trouble."

"I don't travel with anyone I'm not sure of," Mandalore answered. "You look capable, but Iziz can be a dangerous place. If you want to travel on my shuttle, I want to make sure you aren't going to be a liability."

Reluctantly, Darden had to admire the man's sense. "Fine," she said. "I wouldn't agree—but I do actually need the transportation. It's crucial that I get to the planet's surface. How do you suggest I prove myself?"

He shrugged. "Figure it out yourself," he said. "Ask around, see if you can make yourself useful. Or do something that'll show what you're made of."

Darden crossed her arms and glared. "You have something in mind. You might as well tell me."

Another wave of amusement. Darden got the feeling her rudeness and daring was rather making Mandalore like her than otherwise. "There is one thing," he admitted. "Before your ship landed we were preparing some demolition work. All the activity forced my men to stop before they finished. The charges need to be detonated before anybody comes across them. So all you'd have to do is flip a switch."

"If it's so easy, why not go back and do it yourself?" Darden challenged him

"We want to keep a low profile," he told her. "So we've recalled all our patrols in the jungle. Setting off some high grade explosives isn't a textbook example of subtlety."

He did have a certain turn of phrase, a knack for understatement that Darden appreciated. She smiled. "Well that's true. So. What would I be blowing up?"

"We were trying to uncover the entrance to a hidden cache of old Mandalorian equipment," he told her readily enough. "The explosives should be easy to find. Just get to it before the cannoks do."

Darden rolled her eyes. "Urgh. Those are so annoying. Sure. Whatever."

Mandalore extended a gauntleted hand. Darden took it, and they shook. "I'll let Kex know that you check out," the Mandalorian told her. "We've found more gear than we can use, so you can trade with him if you need some more supplies. Be careful in the jungle. Our patrols have stopped until the space traffic dies down. The challenging beasts have been cleared from the area, but what's left might still be too much for you."

Darden snorted. "Yeah. I doubt it." She gave Mandalore an ironic little wave and led her companions out, wondering if he would be so willing to help her if he knew who she was, knew, that in the end, she and Bao-Dur had been Revan's best pieces in orchestrating the final, crushing defeat of the Mandalorians.

* * *

**A/N: Really don't have much to say about this one. **

**Coming Soon: Around the Mandalorian camp and in the Dxun jungle, Darden comes to know her old enemies better, and her allies. In the course of her tasks, she may find more than she intended. She may find a weapon that will mark her as a Jedi to friends and enemies alike. But Darden is growing stronger in the Force. Has she attracted too much attention?**

**R&R**

**May the Force be With You,  
LMSharp**


	14. A Light in the Darkness

**Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.**

* * *

XIII.

A Light in the Darkness

Bao-Dur wasn't happy. "We're helping these people?" he asked Darden in an undertone upon exiting the communications building. "General—"

"We need to get to Iziz. He'll take us," Darden said.

"That man said he would rebuild the Mandalorians," the Handmaiden said. "It would be wise to think about the ramifications of our course of action, exile."

Darden nodded. She gestured at the camp. "Look around. There are probably less than a hundred Mandalorians here—a tiny remnant of a single clan. These people aren't going to conquer the galaxy any time soon. But look at them." She pointed to them training, to a group working on repairs, and more loading up supplies. "Have you seen the Mandalorians since the end of the war? Lost souls, or worse, thugs and bullies. These—they think they're doing something honorable. Something good. They're working for something better than just a battle to fight. Because they're here, they're not tyrannizing the underdogs on backwater worlds. Far be it from me to stop them and send them back to that."

"So it's the lesser of two evils," Bao-Dur said.

"More or less," Darden said. "And I'm curious about this new Mandalore. He's being very helpful. I want to know why."

Kreia looked away. Darden looked at her and tried to feel her emotions, but her mind was shut down tight. Darden looked at her. _"You know something," _she accused telepathically. _"You knew we'd find this man. That's why you wanted to come here." _

Silence.

Darden scowled. _"Fine. But I'll be watching. Him—and you."_

"Well," said the Handmaiden. "If we are to aid these people, there is no time like the present."

Darden smiled at her. "My thoughts exactly. Come on. Let's see what we can find out around here."

There was a lot around the camp to find out, apparently. Mandalore's suggestion to look around hadn't been an empty one meant only to give her a hard time. The mechanic, Zuka, was relatively new to his job. He was having major troubles with the relay dish. Wires were broken, the telemetry computer was malfunctioning, and a rare part had been torn up and eaten by cannoks. Xarga, the training master in charge of new recruits, was missing one of his young warriors. The young man, Kumus, had been due back two days previously. Xarga asked Darden to find the body and retrieve Kumus' gear. The Mandalorians also had a battle circle where they trained their more experienced warriors through sparring matches. In hopes of proving herself in combat against some of Mandalore's warriors, Darden sparred with a couple of them. She beat two of them, but after that the sergeant got tired of her pretensions to Mandalorian training and sent her off about her business. He said maybe later she could fight some more, but for the present she was to get lost.

Darden did what she could around camp to help Zuka. She repaired the broken wires on her own. Bao-Dur watched, frowning. When she went to the telemetry computer, though, he sighed.

"Move over, General. I'll take care of it."

Darden gave him her sunniest smile. "Thanks, Bao-Dur," she said.

He fixed the telemetry computer in no time at all. Darden sighed. "I guess we'd better head out into the jungle, again," she said, looking outside the building in annoyance. It had started raining again. "We've got enough to do out there."

On their way out of the camp, the patrol captain stopped them and warned them again about the jungle beasts the patrols weren't killing anymore. Apparently, a zakkeg had been seen around the area. Darden promised the captain she'd be careful and left, resolving to take the beast out. If the Mandalorians didn't think she could handle it, killing it would be a good way to prove herself to Mandalore.

Just outside the camp, a group of Mandalorians was waiting for her. Darden recognized one of them as the first kid she'd beaten in the battle circle.

"You finally arrive, stranger," he said, projecting his voice so his friends would hear. "I seek to reclaim the honor that you stole from me. I challenge you here, outside the battle circle. This time we fight to the death!"

Darden sighed. "Your teachings claim there is no dishonor in losing to a worthy opponent," she reminded him. "I fought in the Wars, okay? I've defeated many Mandalorians before you. You have not diminished, losing to me."

The kid—Davrel—hesitated. Then he looked to either side, at the men he'd brought with him. "You would deny my request?" he asked Darden. "I want to fight here, in front of the other Mandalorians, to prove my worth. Do not shame me again."

Darden felt sorry for him, suddenly. Davrel was young and enthusiastic. All he really wanted was to be a warrior like his peers. And she'd come waltzing in and made him look like a fool. She stepped closer. "I beat you in the battle circle unarmed," she said softly. "And you and I both know it wasn't just a fluke. To challenge me here is to throw your life away to prove a point, and that's a much bigger shame than the one you've suffered. It would shame me, too, to kill you like that. Look—I'm sorry I embarrassed you in the battle circle, Davrel. I didn't think about it. But there has to be something else you can do to prove yourself."

One of the other Mandalorians nodded respectfully, and Darden realized they hadn't approved of him challenging her to the death, either. Davrel looked down. "There are no wars to fight, no great enemies to destroy," he said bitterly. "I wish this was a different age, where our armadas were a force to be feared."

Darden sighed. "Look, the patrol captain told me about a zakkeg around here. They're supposed to be a challenge even for a Mandalorian patrol."

"A zakkeg?" Davrel asked, looking up. "Those are the deadliest beasts in this part of the jungle. Patrols are right to be cautious about them. I'll do what I must to prove myself to the other Mandalorians, but fighting a zakkeg would be a short-lived honor."

Darden looked straight through his helmet where his eyes ought to be. "So would fighting me," she said levelly. "But if we took on the zakkeg together—"

Davrel looked at the others. One of his companions nodded. Darden felt a wave of relief, tinged with a little bit of gratitude, emanate from the young Mandalorian. "Yes, I suppose that is…possible. We would both gain recognition from that battle. Your plan is acceptable to me," he announced. "Together we will destroy the zakkeg. I will meet you there."

He nodded at Darden and ran out into the jungle. Darden hoped he didn't get killed before he found the zakkeg, and had the sense to wait for her when he did. But at any rate, she wouldn't be responsible for killing him now.

"Thank you, stranger," one of the other Mandalorians said unexpectedly. "Davrel is young and inexperienced. We recognize the strength you displayed, defeating him in the battle circle. Kex and Tagren, also. It is no dishonor to have fought you. We told him this. But he would not listen. Go well."

Darden bowed. She walked away, and as she did, the Handmaiden observed. "These Mandalorians are not like those I heard tale of. They are proud and their stance and movements displays their strength and training. But they are not—are not evil, are they? I am confused."

Darden shook her head. "The Mandalorians' big idea is one similar to yours," she told the girl. "That the truest test of the self is made in battle. They fight to become stronger, to become wiser. They find honor in conflict against a worthy opponent, or they should, whether they win or lose. In some ways, it's a noble idea of a proud people.

"I was never quite able to hate the Mandalorians during the war," she continued. "For all that I realized that they had to be stopped. You see, their reliance upon strength, insistence upon a challenge, also manifests itself in a contempt for weakness. They do—terrible things when their opponents don't rise up to challenge them and there is no outlet for their steel. Worlds die." She swallowed, remembering. "As nice, as poetic an idea as it is to test yourself always in battle, in struggle, it's one that can't be sustained in civilization, Handmaiden. Your Echani duels have become more ritual dances than combat, and that's good. It means they can survive alongside others. Mandalorians—they can't. Davrel back there, all those ones that have turned to spice and enforcing, it's really rather sad, in a way."

"You see much," Kreia said softly. She was smiling faintly.

Bao-Dur looked thoughtful. "I never could see it that way," he admitted. "All the things they did, the millions they killed. I hated them. I still hate them. But—in my hate for them, I killed just as many. And maybe not as honorably."

Darden nodded. "I think what matters is what's in the heart and mind when one goes into battle," she said, drawing closer to Bao-Dur. "One has to be careful, or else even moved by an opponent's terrible actions, one becomes the enemy one is trying to destroy."

She frowned and looked down at the ground. "I think that's what happened to Revan." She kicked at a leaf and ran her hand through her soaking wet hair. "I think it might've happened to me."

"Not you, General," Bao-Dur said firmly. "You did what you had to, and your programming never got corrupted."

Darden smiled at the mechanical metaphor. The Handmaiden was looking at her, judging her.

"I will think on your words," she announced suddenly. "You have given me much to contemplate. I think—perhaps all is not as Atris said. Perhaps you are not as Atris said."

Darden smiled. Then there was a barking growl. "Cannok!" Darden cried.

She wasn't just trying to avoid being ripped apart by the beasts. Darden really was after the cannoks. She didn't know another way she was going to get that pulse converter for Zuka. Not on Dxun. So when she'd disemboweled the four cannoks she looked through their stomach contents, grateful, again, for the rain. In one she found part of the pulse converter. But in another—she grabbed the two things, washing them frantically on the grass.

"Bao-Dur!" she cried.

"Yes?" he said. He knelt down beside her in the wet grass and looked at the parts she was handing him. He went still. "That's a lightsaber emitter fixture," he said. "And a crystal. Yeah—it's amazing, but they're usable. Put them in your pack with the power cell fixture."

Darden was already doing so. She smiled widely. "If I can just find a lens fixture—I can _build_ the emitter, power cell, and lens. Bao-Dur, I could do it."

She stood, shivering all over. "You aim to build a new lightsaber?" Kreia asked sharply. "There is much importance, much craving attached to such a tiny thing of light. Why would you build such a thing?"

Darden hesitated. "Because if I'm going to talk to these former Jedi, represent the Order and ask that they return, I want them to remember, when they look at me, what they gave up. A lightsaber is a symbol of the Order, even if I am not anymore. Because if the Exchange and the Sith and who knows who else are all going to pursue me as the last of the Jedi, I want the means to be able to defend myself as such, and to defend what allies are stupid enough to stand with me." She added the last with a smile at Bao-Dur and Handmaiden.

"I see," Kreia said. "Well, the knowledge has been imparted to you. If it is given for you to build another lightsaber, the Force will bring what parts you lack in time." But her voice was tight. She was displeased.

Darden kept walking through the Dxun jungle, though, with a lighter heart now. To the northwest, she found the demolitions site Mandalore had been talking about. She paused, hand over the permacrete detonator. Then she said, "Shields up. This is too easy. Be prepared for a fight."

And she flipped the switch and covered her ears. The explosion was enormous. The heat from it dried the moisture right off of Darden's face and front. The light from it brought back the last time on Dxun. Darden started breathing a little more heavily. Sweating. But she didn't have time for flashbacks.

Angry yowling and growling sounded behind her, and Darden turned to find two malraas and three boma advancing on them with mad eyes, shaking their heads to dispel their ringing ears.

"Yeah—not that easy," Darden muttered, and fell upon the creatures with the double vibrosword she'd already drawn.

Darden usually just shot, or sliced. But now there were too many. Two boma had cornered the Handmaiden, and as skilled as she was, they were just too enormous, too angry. A malraas was menacing Bao-Dur. The other malraas and boma were leaping at Darden and Kreia, and Darden swallowed. Then she reached out with the Force, and held all, all of them stationary. It took an incredible effort. But she could do it. Darden laughed aloud and cut a malraas and a boma down. She could do it! The Handmaiden got free and killed one of the boma threatening her. Bao-Dur took out the other malraas. In short order the last boma was dispatched, and Kreia smiled.

"You are grown strong in the Force. I can feel its touch upon you. It wearies you still, but soon what just took you nearly all of your strength will be nothing compared to what you can achieve."

Darden panted, and laughed. "I don't know about that, Kreia. But—"she shook her head. "Let's just go on. There's more to do."

But, thinking better of it, she dug around in her pack and brought out rations for everyone. "You are incredible, all of you, but even you can't go on all day."

They ate, and then went on. South a bit, Darden encountered another Mandalorian. Not Davrel.

He hailed her. "What are you doing out here?" he asked. "It's dangerous for your kind."

"You mean, non-Mandalorians?" Darden asked. "Your Mandalore doesn't think so. Or at least he's giving me the opportunity to prove that wrong. What's your name? I thought all the Mandalorian patrols had been stopped."

"I am Kelborn," the Mandalorian said. "A Mandalorian scout. I don't go on patrols. Mandalore sent me out here personally to track a ship that landed in the area."

"You talking about the Duros one?" Darden said. "It's deeper in the jungle—to the south."

Kelborn shook his head. "No, it wasn't them. That ship was damaged and screaming its ID signature all the way down. This one was trying to slip in quietly, and it was keeping its ion emissions to a minimum. Our sensors almost didn't pick it up."

Darden frowned. "I don't like this," she muttered. "What have you found?"

Kelborn gestured with his toe. Darden looked down and saw a body at his feet. "Just this corpse here," he said. "Looks like a scout, and pretty green, too. The fool walked right into a group of cannoks and got torn apart. He can't have been the only one crawling around here." He looked up at Darden. "You say Mandalore cleared you to be out here? You up for some action?"

Darden shifted. "The camp. You can't let whoever it is find it. What are you planning to do? Kill them?"

Kelborn laughed. "Squeamish? Don't worry. I'm not planning on killing them unless I have to. But people do have a habit of shooting Mandalorians on sight. If so, I wouldn't mind a good fight."

Darden considered. If someone had snuck down to Dxun, odds were they weren't after the Mandalorians. It was in her best interests to help Kelborn find whoever it was. Before they found her, or the _Ebon Hawk_. "As long as I'm not signing up for a blood hunt," she said. "What's the plan?"

Kelborn looked down at the corpse again. "There's more of these scouts in the jungle," he told her. "There's many paths, and I don't want them to slip by. If we split up, we should be able to find their scouts. If you're up for it."

Darden nodded. "I'll help you out. No one knows you Mandalorians are here. If these scouts are hiding, they're probably looking for me."

Kelborn's helmet swiveled to face her. Darden caught a huge wave of interest from him. She didn't explain. So he said, "I'll take up a position to the east. You go west. I'll make sure none of them get past me."

Darden nodded and waved, and headed south and west. It didn't take her long to find the scouts. Kelborn was right. They didn't know anything about the Dxun jungle.

They were plunging through the brush like bantha. Darden stood there and waited. There were three of them in this first group. A human female was complaining to her male companion about the missing scout. "I hope this mission is worth it to the colonel," she said grumpily. "If not—"

They came out of the brush and caught sight of Darden and her companions. The male said, "Wait. Isn't that—"

"It's her!" the woman cried. "Get her!"

They opened fire. Darden dodged and jumped at them. When it was over she said, "Yeah. I thought they were after us. Come on. There might be more."

There were. Four more, fighting a herd of boma. They didn't want to talk, either. Darden left the corpses feeling rather depressed. Here she was on Dxun, battling again. She wished she had a choice.

She led her companions north and east to rejoin Kelborn. She found him with a group of corpses. "More of their scouts," he said. "They started shooting as soon as they saw me. I heard blaster fire coming from deeper in the jungle. You find something?"

Darden nodded wearily. "I came across two groups of scouts. I was right. They were after me. They aren't anymore."

"I'm surprised they were after you," Kelborn said. "I thought their grudge was only against Mandalorians. Find out anything useful from them?"

Darden shook her head. "You first. What did you find out?"

Kelborn answered easily enough. "I searched their corpses. I'm pretty certain that they're Onderonian military, but without the tags. Could be a covert operation."

"Well, yes," Darden said. "It would be. But what makes you think so?"

He was staring at her, from behind his helmet. "The only thing the scouts had on them was weapons," he replied, slowly. "No identity cards, no personal effects, and no evidence to figure out who they were if they died or were captured out here."

"Yet you're sure they were military?" Darden asked. "All of them?" She'd heard the one woman mention the colonel—possibly Colonel Tobin, and she wanted to know more about what she was going into when she finally landed on Onderon.

But Kelborn shook his head. "It doesn't work that way, stranger. I've told you what I found, now you tell me what you found, and why these scouts were after you."

"The scouts mentioned a colonel before they saw us and attacked," Darden said. "That's all I know about them."

Kelborn's focus sharpened still more. "Colonel, huh? Could be Colonel Tobin. Tobin is General Vaklu's personal kath hound. If he's on your trail, you might want to steer clear of Onderon."

"I don't have that luxury," Darden said. "I already knew he fired on my ship and forced us down here, though."

"He was probably acting on orders from General Vaklu," Kelborn said. "If so, you've made some dangerous enemies, stranger."

_Tell me something I don't know, _Darden thought. "Why Vaklu, though?" she asked. "Who is he?"

"General Vaklu is the cousin of Queen Talia," Kelborn told her. "He's also in charge of the Onderon military. He led the Onderon resistance when we occupied their world during the Mandalorian Wars. He was a worthy foe, maybe more than a match for you. Mandalore needs to know about the scouts. I'll let him know about your role in dealing with them."

Darden nodded. "We'll see you back at camp, then."

Kelborn shrugged. "You might, you might not." He started to go, then turned. "I hear you've been fighting in the battle circle. Your actions have proven you worthy of facing our best in the circle. I will speak to the sergeant on your behalf. Perhaps we can face each other there."

Darden hesitated, then shook her head. "I would spar with you privately, if you wish," she said. "But I fought one of you earlier who took it as a dishonor to lose to me. I seek to shame no one."

Kelborn looked hard at her. "Farewell, then, stranger. See you back at camp."

Darden waved. "Let's go east," she said to the others. "We still have to find the rest of that phase pulse converter. And Kumus' stuff, if we can. And it's heading towards nightfall."

"Lead on," the Handmaiden said. "I will follow."

Darden looked at her companions. All three of them were soaked to the skin. The Handmaiden was shivering slightly. But none of them had complained. Not even once. She smiled. "Thank you," she told them all softly. "Your help—I can't tell you how much I appreciate it."

Northeast, Darden and her companions eventually came to a cliff. There were charges set along it, and Darden saw a permacrete detonator. But there was no one around. She blinked. "Hello?"

"You there…" said a weak voice. "I…am in need of assistance."

Darden looked up. Up a tree on top of the cliff, a Mandalorian was looking down at her. His arms were shaking with fatigue. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I am Kumus," he said. "A Mandalorian warrior. My brothers believe me dead. Without aid, they shall soon be right."

Darden looked around and up at him. "So what's going on? What are you doing up there?"

"A patrol was sent to look for weapons caches in this region," he reported. "They found three sites that looked promising. Xarga, my commander, told me to prove myself by taking explosives to those sites and uncovering the caches, if they exist."

Darden frowned. "So what happened? I mean, here's the detonator, the charges are all set—why haven't you set them off and gone back already?"

Kumus seemed reluctant. Finally, he said, "This was the first site. After easily dispatching some malraas, I removed my pack and began to plant my charges along this ridge. When I finished setting the charges, I looked to see cannoks swarming all over my pack. The pests were eating everything! I killed the cannoks, but then a herd of boma arrived. I had no more ammo—the extra energy cells I had brought had been in my pack. So I have been up here, weaponless, for two days."

"And without anything else, either," Darden said, placing the weakness in the young Mandalorian's voice. "I see. How can I help?"

"You must have cleared a path through the beasts coming here," Kumus said. "If you take care of the boma beasts around the ledge, I can make it to safety."

Darden hesitated, realizing what a dishonorable position this young warrior found himself in. She rummaged around in her pack. "I have an extra ammo clip, if you want it," she said.

"My blaster rifle has been useless ever since I used it to bash in a cannok's skull," was the reply.

Darden nodded. "Then consider the boma gone."

"Your actions are worthy of a Mandalorian," Kumus said. "Return here when you have slain the beasts, and I will be able to return to camp."

There were just three of them. Darden, Kreia, the Handmaiden, and Bao-Dur together were able to dispatch them easily. When they'd done, Darden hollered up to the cliff. "You can come down now! They're gone!"

Kumus half climbed, half fell out of his tree. He stumbled down the cliff to Darden and her companions. "I am grateful for your help, stranger," he said. "I am returning to the Mandalorian camp now. I won't forget this. I have only one request…please don't mention this incident to anyone."

Darden stared at him blankly. "What incident?" she asked, wide-eyed. Then she winked.

The Handmaiden stopped him. "Before you go, Mandalorian," she said, "Here—I have a little food. It would not do for you to starve on the way back to the encampment."

She handed Kumus some dried fruit. He bowed. "Again, thank you."

Bao-Dur watched him go. "I have no love for Mandalorians, but just letting him starve up there…I think you did the right thing, General."

"There's no point in hating the Mandalorians anymore," Darden told him, smiling a little. "They're beaten, and that one was just a kid that made a stupid mistake. There was no need for him to die."

"I agree. There was enough senseless death back then to last a lifetime without adding any more."

Darden clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on. There's still stuff to do."

As the rainy sky started to darken over Dxun, Darden found the two final pieces of the phase pulse converter in the bowels of cannoks. And to the south, she found Davrel again at last.

"You have arrived at last," he said. "The zakkeg is just up ahead. Together, we have a chance of defeating it."

"Been a while since I was on Dxun," Darden said. "What do you know about zakkegs?"

Davrel shrugged. "They are heavily armored," he said. "They aren't particularly agile, but if they connect it can be deadly. A skilled patrol of warriors can kill the beast."

"Do you have a plan?"

"We go into the clearing and attack it," Davrel said simply. "Either it dies or we do. Beasts of the jungle are fierce and powerful. Straightforward plans work the best."

Darden smiled. "Fine. Shields up?" she said to her companions, drawing her blaster. For a heavily armored creature, it was a better bet. "Let's go."

The zakkeg was enormous—about as big as a full grown rancor. It had long, thick fangs, brutal, ripping claws, and a tail that Darden thought could club her into the next decade. Luckily, it didn't see too well. Darden took aim, and fired once. Twice.

The zakkeg shrieked with pain, and now it couldn't see at all. "Go!" she cried to her companions.

It was slaughter. Moving in a sort of tag-team effort, the Handmaiden, Bao-Dur, and Kreia danced forward in turn to take stabs at the big lizard, while Davrel and Darden fired at it from a distance. It took a while. It was very heavily armored, and avoiding the clubbing tail and slashing claws took some doing, especially after it was hurt enough to be berserk with pain. But eventually the zakkeg went down.

Davrel stood over it, gaping. Then he bowed to the Handmaiden, Bao-Dur, and Kreia in turn, saving the last and deepest bow for Darden. "I—I must thank you for your help," he said. "We have killed the zakkeg. I will leave the spoils of battle to you. I am going back to the camp and I will tell them of our deeds here."

Darden nodded. "Sure." She stopped him as he left, and smiled. "Davrel—good work. You fought valiantly."

He paused, and nodded, somewhat shyly. "You fought in the wars, stranger," he said suddenly. "In what capacity? Who are you?"

Darden hesitated. "My name is Darden," she answered at last. "Darden Leona."

Davrel stared. Then he laughed. "I was foolish to think I could defeat you in battle," he said. "I know that name. We all do. Darden Leona was the name of the Jedi General under Revan that day—at Malachor. You do wrong to hide your identity among us, Jedi. Your strength, your decision, your spirit is held in high regard among my people." He bowed again, more deeply still. "An honor, Darden Leona."

He went off, still laughing.

Darden watched him go, puzzled. "I thought they would hate me," she said.

Kreia sniffed. "You yourself observed the Mandalorians find honor in the battle, win or lose. Perhaps among them we may have found some of our truest allies in this time of need. Let us return to the camp. Night falls, and the beasts will come with still greater ferocity."

"You're right," Darden said. "Let's go." Before leaving, she cut off the ear of the zakkeg to show the patrol captain.

When they made it back to camp there was much to do. Darden had to give the patrol captain the zakkeg ear, and Zuka the pieces of the phase pulse converter. She had to pay her respects to Xarga to make sure that Kumus had made it back in one piece, though she did not explain how she had found him. Davrel had spread the word, too. Not about her identity. He'd had the sense to keep quiet about that much. But Mandalorians kept coming up to congratulate them on this and that and the other—basically for not being wimpy outsiders, but warriors worthy of honor.

At last when Darden and her companions had sat down to supper around a campfire, with makeshift cots they'd got off Kex the quartermaster, Mandalore came up to them. Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden were talking, but Kreia listened quietly as Mandalore addressed Darden.

"So," he said. "Kelborn said you dispatched some covert military scouts in the jungle with him. He spoke highly of your work. Zuka told me earlier you helped out with some repairs around the base. That was a great help, but you did not confine yourself to tech work. The patrol captain said you managed to kill a zakkeg. Those are tough beasts. You've earned some respect around here, I can see. Xarga just told me you returned one of our sheep to the herd, and for that, too, you have gained some small prestige. Just now, I saw Zuka repairing the phase pulse converter. How many cannoks did you have to kill to find the parts for him? You've been an enormous help. I won't forget it. You've made qite the reputation around here. You did better than I thought you could."

"Did I?" Darden said, taking a drink of water and looking over at Mandalore. She didn't feel any surprise whatsoever from him. "I get a feeling you know just about everything that goes on in the sector, 'Mandalore'. You probably knew exactly how much help I could be when you asked this morning. I set off your permacrete detonator, too. That cache is ready for retrieval."

"I know," Mandalore said. "It made quite a racket. Good work."

"That racket attracted the group of boma you knew would come."

Mandalore laughed. "It wouldn't be much of a test if all you had to do was take a hike through the jungle, would it?" he asked. "You're alive, in one piece, and learned something about the beasts of the jungle."

Darden stared at the man in the mask. "Is that how you train your recruits here?" she asked. She laughed. "Unorthodox, but effective. I'll give you that." Despite her misgivings, she was starting to like this mysterious 'Mandalore'. More than that, he felt important, somehow. Familiar—like an echo of a memory, or a friend of a friend.

Mandalore laughed, too. Then he opened his gauntleted hand and gave her something. "You're all right, for a Jedi," he said. "Darden Leona, is it?"

Darden stared at him, and then down at the lightsaber lens fixture in her palm. Mandalore laughed again.

"You said yourself, I know pretty much everything that happens in the sector. Davrel told me. But I'd recognized you already, Leona. Tell you what. I wasn't planning on going to Iziz for a few days yet, but I'll move up the timetable and take you tomorrow. You won't be able to get to the _Ebon Hawk_ from the city. If you need to grab anything from your ship, I'd do it now."

Darden brought up her com-link and pressed it. Only static. She shook her head. "No," she said. "But—could I use your workbench? I saw one, in the building with the telemetry computer."

"Sure, whatever you need," Mandalore said, rising. He restrained it, but Darden thought she heard a groan. "I'll see you in the morning, Leona."

"Yeah," Darden said, waving him off and taking a last bite of her supper. Her heart was racing. She stood. "Bao-Dur—"

He rose and came over to her. "Yes, General?"

Darden got out all her lightsaber parts. "I do have all the lightsaber parts I need, right?" she asked.

He took them. "Let me see what you have." He inspected each one, and started to smile. "Yes. That's everything. Now all you need is a little quiet time with the workbench."

Darden burst out grinning. "Come with me," she said. "If you like. I'd like you to be there, when I build it."

He nodded. "I'd like that."

Darden waved to Kreia and the Handmaiden. "I'll be back in a bit," she said.

She and Bao-Dur crossed the camp to the building where the Mandalorians kept their workbench. Darden almost skipped. When she came to the workbench, she drew out her pieces, and took some components—metal, circuits, casing, from the parts bin next to the bench. She focused, and began to build, thinking of the friends she was making, and the mission she was on.

She fashioned a lens, emitter, and power cell for her fixtures—ones that would make the blade she was building focused, keen, and radiant. Excellent for blaster bolt deflection, without hurting melee combat either. She started to arrange the fixtures and wire them together to form a double blade schematic.

"I'm glad I found you again, General," Bao-Dur said from behind her.

"Why? What do you mean?" Darden asked, carefully attaching wires together.

"We were together at Malachor. I don't know if anyone else could understand," he said vaguely.

"The anger? The guilt? The restlessness?" Darden said. "Is that why you're here? I'm trying to leave that behind." She bit her lip and carefully, carefully positioned the focusing crystal in the exact center of the shaft. She felt the Force pulse, and smiled.

"I'm here because you found me on Telos and I decided to come along for the ride," he said drily. "Not that I had much choice after we got going."

Darden wired in the switch and felt the circuits connect. She took a deep breath, and brought up the metal, rubber, and tools to form the grip. "There's always a choice, Bao-Dur," she told her friend. "You didn't have to come. You know that."

"Tired of me already?" Bao-Dur said. "I was frustrated. Watching the Ithorians get pushed around by Czerka—I thought I could make a difference, but it was taken away from me. Guess if one planet was good enough for me, why not the galaxy?"

His words were the vague, uncomfortable ones of a person more comfortable with wires and numbers than people and words. Darden understood him, though. She finished casing the wiring and started to develop the grip with design, feeling what was right. Before, her lightsaber had been a thing of beauty. Worked with several different kinds of material, with bursting stars and ancient Jedi script and scrollwork, by an idealistic child. This time, fashioning her lightsaber that way seemed wrong. Now, she knew something more of the world. Of herself. Darden worked the grip to her scarred and experienced hand, using different materials, to symbolize all the places she'd been and all the places she was going. But the design was utilitarian, not artistic.

She fashioned the metals with heat and pressure. "So. You and I are supposed to fix the galaxy now, are we?" She laughed. "Even I we managed to figure out what was wrong with it, how would we know where to start?"

"You just have to know what the circuits look like," Bao-Dur replied.

"It's all wires and switches to you, huh?" Darden asked.

"That's how I see things," he answered. "Traveling with you, I know there's something else in the universe, but I can't do anything about it anyways. So I'll leave it to you to take care of." He came up behind her, grabbed her shoulder. "General. It's done."

Darden stopped, and felt out. He was right. It was perfect. She looked at the lightsaber, cooling on the bench, then back at Bao-Dur, curiously. She'd felt before that possibly there was more to her quiet mechanic than met the eye. But now she was almost certain. She reached out with the Force, feeling his presence.

Something in him shifted in response, and Darden nodded. "You sell yourself short," she told him softly. "As for me, these days if I'm not dead by bedtime I've done really well. But I'm trying to fix things where I can."

She called her lightsaber with the Force, and it rose in the air and fell into her hand, still warm. She activated it. The double-blade slid out, silvery gray, almost white. She stepped back, and made a few passes, hearing the blade hum through the air. "It's finished," she murmured. She deactivated it. "Thank you."

"You did it all yourself, General," Bao-Dur said with a smile. "Now you really are the General again. We should head back to the others and get some sleep, if we're going to Onderon in the morning."

* * *

THE NEXT DAY, MANDALORE

The man that wore the mask of Mandalore stood by his shuttle, watching Zuka work. He couldn't fight the excitement. The _Ebon Hawk _was back. And with Leona as its captain, as capable as she seemed? He'd have news, all right, somehow. Sooner rather than later. The news he'd wanted for years.

"How are the port stabilizers?" he asked Zuka.

"They check out, Mandalore. All systems are green."

"Good. I want the shuttle bound for Onderon within the hour." He heard a noise at the entrance to the shuttle bay and turned. It was one of Leona's friends—not the Echani girl, or the Iridonian. The old woman. Alone. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"Is all in readiness?" she asked.

"It is, like I promised," he said. "Why, you want to back out now?"

"My only concerns are for the one you escort to Onderon, Mandalorian," she replied. "Would you do any less for one of your clan?"

Mandalore scoffed. "Don't pretend to understand us. We Mandalorians are a breed apart."

She stepped closer, seeming to smile beneath that damn hood of hers. "If by 'apart' you mean scattered, broken, and lost, then yes—you are correct."

"Not for long," Mandalore retorted, getting angry now. When Leona said things like that, well, she'd earned the privilege. In battle. But this woman—"Soon the Mandalorians will be strong again, united as one clan under one banner. Mine."

"Ah, yes. The great crusade—"the woman taunted. "After the first one was ended by Revan and the Jedi. Such a defeat was merciful, an echo of the end, when your ships were in flames, crushed in the grip of Malachor V. But I do not need to remind you of such things."

Mandalore stepped up to her. Who did she think she was? "I was at Malachor V. And I remember how many Jedi died to stop us there. And no matter how many dead orbit that planet, the Mandalorians still live. Clan Ordo still lives." He jerked his head out at the camp. "Kex was serving on Nar Shaddaa as muscle for the Hutts. Kelborn was a scout for the Duros on frontier worlds. I brought them here, gave them a purpose. This galaxy will be ours again, I promise you. That is the future."

"Indeed?" the woman said coldly. "The future is always in motion. It is a difficult thing to see. Perhaps there will be no new age, Mandalore, no great Mandalorian crusade. Perhaps your people fought their last battle at Malachor V, and you have been dying ever since, a quiet death that will last centuries." She paused. "And perhaps all that remains will be what I see before me: a man, wounded by a Jedi, encased in a Mandalorian shell, haunted by the thought of being the last of the Mandalorians."

Her words were like a punch in the gut. All the things he was afraid of, that all this would be for nothing, that he'd fail Her, and his people would die in the dark, they'd crawled into the bay with this hag. Zuka watched. Mandalore leaned over. "You've got some guts," he hissed, "Talking to me like that. You think your age or your Jedi whelp are going to keep you safe from me?"

The old woman stepped back. "No, Mandalore," she said quietly. "You are wrong. I hope that it is you who will keep the one I travel with safe. You are loyal, and you have served many Masters…even when they abandoned you." She was silent a long moment, then looked up. He saw her blind eyes, and they penetrated right through his armor. "Do you wonder where she wanders now, Mandalore?" the old woman breathed. "Why she gave you your orders, then abandoned you at the edge of the galaxy?"

Mandalore went dead still. "How do you know that?"

She smiled and stepped back further. "I know many things," she said. "And I can answer the question that burns within your shell, Mandalore. But there is a price—you must keep the one I travel with safe. She is important to me—more important than anything. Show the same loyalty you have shown in the past, Mandalore. If there is a Mandalorian crusade, let it be for something that will carry your people's memory into the future, so when there are no more Mandalorians, at least their honor will remain. The one I travel with has walked your same path, and I ask that when the end comes, that you remember that kinship, even if it seems that there is nothing else left."

She had been steadily walking back, and now she turned, and with a last cryptic smile, disappeared around the corner.

"Mandalore?" Zuka asked.

"Forget _Darden Leona_," he managed. "Keep your eyes on that one."

* * *

DARDEN

The blaster fire that woke Darden in the morning was altogether different from the training blaster fire that had filled the camp the day previously. "Stealthed targets have breached the perimeter!" a Mandalorian cried.

Kreia was beside her, dressed and armed. "Our enemy has tracked us here," she said. "Iridonian, servant of Atris! Awaken!" Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden sat up, and tensed. The Handmaiden grabbed her pack and staff. Bao-Dur drew his vibroblade. To Darden, Kreia said, "I did not expect them so soon—how did they get here, I wonder? Regardless, we must eliminate them all. None of them can escape. Our whereabouts must remain a secret. Let us join the battle. Our allies will need our help."

Darden activated her lightsaber, and the Sith that were attacking Xarga and his recruits turned. She threw her pack on. "Come on!" she cried.

There were dozens of them. It was hard to tell how many, exactly, because they kept materializing and stealthing out again. Darden fought, falling into a lightsaber rhythm, an old form, a basic form. The first one she had learned as an apprentice back on Coruscant.

Bao-Dur was different, today. Not so reckless, not so angry. He fought the Sith with powerful strokes, but this morning, he was backing up Darden and the Handmaiden, and she wasn't having to watch him so much.

The Handmaiden, too, was starting to get a feel for fighting with Darden, instead of sparring against her. Her blue eyes were narrowed in determination, and she was everywhere Darden most needed an ally, before Darden called it out to her.

Kreia attempted to draw off Sith, hardly lifting her vibroblade and battling primarily with the Force. To some extent it worked. Several of the Sith converged upon her, and it was only with the Mandalorians' assistance that she kept them at bay. But it didn't work entirely. These Sith sensed their opponents through the Force, and Darden was growing strong enough to be almost as worthy of their attention as Kreia. A few of them focused on Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden, though, and Darden knew that her suspicions were correct regarding both of them.

Bao-Dur cried out as a Sith sword pierced his thigh. Darden didn't even think about it. She focused on him, felt the blood flowing, and willed the wound to heal, to knit itself together. It did so. They fought on.

Sometime in the fight, Darden became aware that Mandalore was fighting next to them. "Seems trouble follows you on a regular basis," he called to her. "You have your gear? I think it's best for both of us if we head to Iziz immediately. My men will take care of cleaning up the mess."

Darden looked around. There were only three or four Sith still fighting. She nodded, and led her companions after Mandalore.

As she did, she pulled out her com-link. "Atton!" she called. "Atton, come in!" There was no response. Just static . Darden swore, suddenly sick with worry. "Come on, you spacebrain!" she all but shouted into the com-link. "Pick the hell up!"

He didn't. Darden was aware that Bao-Dur was helping her into Mandalore's shuttle. Mandalore took the seat behind the cockpit and started the takeoff sequence. "Wait—"Darden said, "Atton, our pilot—he was back at the ship, making repairs."

"If our enemy found the ship, the fool is already dead," Kreia said. "If they did not, communications are still down and we waste our time and put ourselves in danger going back. Fly on," she told Mandalore.

Darden shook her head, feeling cold. "I—"

"The _Ebon Hawk_ is in the deepest jungle, with all its systems down," the Handmaiden said, watching Darden with wide eyes. "Did not you tell me on our voyage that these Sith track their opponents through the Force? With all the ship's systems down, they are probably drawn to you, exile, not any transmission. If our Mandalorian allies do not destroy all of them, then they will follow us. In my judgment, the pilot is most likely unharmed."

"I sent a guard to your ship yesterday," Mandalore said as he flew the shuttle out of the jungle. "To keep it safe if something like this happened. You mentioned a pilot, and I thought they might want to know what was going on."

Darden felt a rush of gratitude. "Thank you," she said. Then she looked at the Handmaiden. "I hope you're right."

She pressed the com-link, and again there was no response. She bit her lip, and Mandalore looked back at her. But he didn't say anything.

* * *

**A/N: So I was thinking this morning, and though these chapters are much better than the first ones, I'm still NOT liking this story. It's almost a third as long as TEoLaD already, and we're not even a quarter of the way through the story. Character development is happening, but not in any artistic or connected way. I'm using way too much game dialogue and not enough original dialogue. **

**I've written three more chapters of this story, but I'm not sure I'll post them. I'm not sure I'm not going to take this story down. I'm still interested in writing a SL story, but maybe not a game walkthrough. Maybe what I'm interested in conveying is better off as a series of chronological one-shots set throughout the game. Bits of what I've done here would transfer over. The best parts. Chapters would be much shorter, much more Darden-centric. I've outlined how it might go. I do better with character-centric stories, anyway, rather than plot-centric ones. **

**I'm not going to take this story down yet. I might not at all. I think I'm going to write three or five of the one-shots I outlined and see if I like them better. If I do, then I'll probably take this down and post them, instead. If I don't, I'll continue with this, and try to make it better than I think it's been. Maybe go back and do extensive revision. **

**I'd appreciate my readers' input, though I make no promises to be guided by it. Ultimately I have to decide what to do as a writer. And right now, I think this is probably the worst piece of fanfiction I have on the site, even when weighed against pieces like To Morgana and The Obligatory Self-Insert. **

**May the Force be With You,**

**LMSharp**

**LMSharp**


	15. The New Jedi Order

**Disclaimer: I really, really like this chapter. But I'm still not getting paid for it.**

* * *

XIV.

The New Jedi Order

Mandalore stood at the bay door and looked out. "Here we are," he told Darden and her companions. "The city of Iziz. It's been shut down tight for months now. General Vaklu is close to declaring martial law. We won't be able to travel too far in the city. Hope you can find out what you need to in the market square."

Darden looked out on the stone building, admiring the high walls and clear skies and clean streets. "I came to Iziz to find a Jedi Master," she told Mandalore. "If he's here, he'll be close to where the trouble is. Trying to fix it."

Mandalore nodded. "Then it's fortunate that I have a friend in this quarter of the city with connections. He's a doctor by the name of Dhagon Ghent. His office is on the other side of the market square." He paused, then gave her a little nod. "It might be best if you do the talking around here. The Onderonians have a mixed view of Mandalorians after we conquered their world."

_You are a leader. _Kreia's words echoed in Darden's mind as the Mandalorian leader basically told her to take control. She looked back at the old woman. Kreia nodded slightly.

Darden shivered, and took the lead. She stepped out of the bay, and Mandalore, Kreia, the Handmaiden, and Bao-Dur all followed.

It was immediately apparent that tensions were high in Iziz. Darden could feel it, crackling in the air. She was issued a starport visa by the port authority for Mandalore's shuttle, and told to guard it with her life, because without the priceless document, there would be no leaving the city.

A merchant could only sell to off-worlders in the starport. Another man by a caged boma hailed her as she sought to exit. She went over.

"Fair winds to you, off-worlders," he said to them. "Is it too much to hope that you are merchants from Telos?"

Darden shook her head. "We're not. Why do you ask?"

The man gestured at his boma, and at several more caged beasts around the starport. "These beasts you see here are for delivery to Telos," he explained. "But the Republic vessels that transport them have to wait for thorough and needlessly long searches. So the city is stacked with cages of beasts waiting for their ships. We have stopped gathering beasts now, but they still fill the city. For drexl and rider, the Ithorians brought wealth and prosperity. But now…"

Darden focused on the man. Was this, then, the reason for the skyrocketing Onderon prices? The tensions here? "Who are you?" she asked sharply. "What do you do?"

"I am a beast-rider," the man said. "I have flown great distances gathering the animals you see here. We keep hoping that the Ithorians or Telosians get through the space forces' searches so that we can sell them."

"I'm interested in Telos' fate," Darden told him. "Are your beasts very important to Telos?"

Bao-Dur answered for the beast-rider. "Telos needs new ecosystems if the reclamation efforts on the planet are to succeed," he said. "Ithor, Onderon, and Dxun are rich in food chains necessary to create new life on Telos and sustain it."

The beast-rider nodded, his dark eyes sad. "Although some of your terms are unknown to me, off-worlder, what you say is true. Telos was attacked by Darth Malak in the Jedi Civil War. The surface was completely destroyed. The Ithorians have been searching for appropriate wildlife to create a new Telos. But their merchants are stalled by the blockade."

"That'll be another death blow to Telos if no new ecosystems are brought to the planet," he said. "The Ithorians are only part of the equation."

"Your friend is correct," the beast-rider agreed. "Much harm is being done on both sides as long as the blockade is in effect."

"Is there anything we can do, exile?" the Handmaiden wanted to know. "I understand if our primary purpose is more important, but Atris would also appreciate any effort that furthers the restoration of Telos."

Darden sighed. "If I did do anything it would be because it was the right thing to do, and not to please your mistress," she said. "But I don't see what I can do. The military wants to kill me."

The boma in the cage growled so menacingly that Darden turned back to the beast-rider. "Your beasts—they're a bit restless, aren't they?"

The man stroked his mustache and his brow furrowed. "They have been kept in their cages for a long time. But…yet, at times, I feel as if something else is affecting them, frightening them."

"Beasts can be sensitive to the currents within cities and people," Kreia spoke up. "When such things are disturbed, the beasts may echo it."

The beast-rider nodded. "Perhaps it is the city itself. Iziz has fallen upon dark times, and tensions run high in the streets."

"And your people? The beast-riders?"

"Our people have been here for centuries," the man answered her. "Though we were not always one with the wilds of Onderon. In ancient times our people were criminals, prisoners who were cast out of Iziz and sentenced to die by the beasts in the wilds. But our ancestors learned to survive and even tame the mighty beasts. They became our strength and companions. We fought endlessly with Iziz for resources and survival. But two generations ago an Iziz princess named Galia and a great beast-rider hero, Oron Kira, married. They united our peoples." Heretofore the man's words had been proud as he related his history. But now his face darkened. "But now things are unraveling. Even the beasts can smell it in the air."

"Exactly how are things unraveling? What's going on?" Darden asked.

The man shrugged. "Many beast-riders have fallen to the city ways, and some are now no more than common thugs. Queen Talia and her cousin General Vaklu argue in open councils. The beasts stir from the changes in the wind, and cannot be calmed. And we beast riders find it harder to enter the city each day."

"Why?"

"No one is allowed to leave the city without the starport visas," he said. "It chokes passage in and out of Iziz."

Darden nodded. "I see. Thank you for the information, sir. I'm sorry I can't be of more help to you. I'll take my leave."

The beast-rider waved and turned back to his boma, attempting to calm the maddened creature. The attempt failed. Instead of subsiding, the beast reared up, breaking out of its cage. The beast-rider cried out a warning and ran.

Darden whirled, activating her lightsaber. She plunged it into the side of the boma beast. It fell to the ground, twitching, and died.

It wasn't the only trouble in Iziz. The beast-rider thanked her—paid her a fee for saving the people in the square from his maddened boma. But the same tension that had made the creature crazy was rife in the market square outside the starport.

Everywhere, people whispered in hushed voices about General Vaklu and Queen Talia, independence and staying loyal to the Republic. Merchants were regulated. Everywhere, people hoping to flee the oncoming storm begged for an open starport visa. People both scrupulous and otherwise. Darden stopped some of Vaklu's men from rounding up a reporter, and thus learned that the military was shutting down free press. When she activated a news holo by the side of the street she learned it was rumored that the _Ebon Hawk_ had fired first in the space battle yesterday morning, acting for the Republic. They were saying it had been destroyed. Darden felt sick again, but she didn't bring out the com-link. The bandwidth wouldn't stretch all the way back to Dxun. So she just closed her eyes and hoped that it was a lie, like saying that the _Ebon Hawk_ was Republic, and had fired first in the battle.

Darden made her way across the square with her companions, towards where Mandalore said Dhagon lived, but they were hindered towards the edge of the marketplace. A man had gathered a crowd, and was shouting a speech.

"There must come a time when the Queen bows to the will of the people," he was saying. "The Republic has brought nothing but war and death! In our fifty years of flying their colors we have had more war than in the last millennia. Back General Vaklu in his effort to make her see reason. We do not need the Republic. They need our resources, our world, and our blood! For all that we have given, now we get nothing. The Republic is weak and falling apart. Its Jedi, whose fallen brethren have brought so much misery to us, have disbanded. Let's be the first world to take our future into our hands. Are you with me?"

The pause was long enough that Darden looked up, and found the rabble-rouser's fevered brown eyes fixed on her. She blinked in surprise. "What—me?"

"Yes!" the man cried. "You. It is up to each and every one of us to turn the tide. To take control of our future!"

Darden shifted. The crowd around the man was looking at her, waiting for her response. Behind her, the Handmaiden adjusted her grip on her staff, and Mandalore half-raised his scary repeating blaster rifle. "Surely—"Darden began nervously. "The Republic does something for you. The trade with Telos. You're getting paid a lot of money to provide your beasts to the restoration effort there."

"The Republic takes from us!" the man retorted, gesticulating wildly to the crowd. "They are like mynocks sucking energy and resources from so many worlds. They bleed us for their bureaucracy and their excesses."

A nearby soldier spoke up. "That's enough, Ponlar! If you keep this up, you're going to spend time in detention. You're coming awfully close to treason."

The man, Ponlar, flushed furiously. "You can't silence me forever, soldier." The soldier stepped close, and Ponlar stepped off the rim of the fountain where he was standing. "But—I'll hold my peace for now."

"Let us go," Kreia murmured.

"Yeah," Darden agreed.

But just a few meters away, two more people were arguing. A Devaronian and a male Twi'lek were debating the state of affairs on Onderon, too, though much more civilly. /But General Vaklu would cut himself off from the many planets of the Republic,/ the Devaronian was arguing. /This is foolish. In solitude no civilization prospers./

/You don't understand the people of Onderon,/ the Twi'lek rebutted. /They are proud and have fought many adversaries to get where they are, mostly by themselves, too. They have given much to the Republic, and see little in return. General Vaklu believes independence would be in Iziz's best interests./

/But Republic fights battles to free Onderon from Mandalorian warriors,/ was the Devaronian's argument. /Should be thankful. Queen Talia is young but looks after her people. She should be honored./

/The Mandalorians would never have been on that moon if it weren't for Exar Kun,/ the Twi'lek said. /And he was a fallen Jedi. I think General Vaklu is right./

Darden thought the two aliens seemed knowledgeable, and civil enough. It struck her that this might be a good opportunity to get more information about the lay of the land. So, politely, she stepped forward. "Um—excuse me," she said, a little awkwardly. "Could you tell me about General Vaklu? I'm from off-world. I've heard a lot since landing about what he's doing on the planet and how he's pushing for Onderonian independence, but I have to admit I don't know much about him."

The two aliens bowed, and the Devaronian spat, /Vaklu lies. He twists words and tries to take heart of people away from their rightful Queen. He is schutta./

Darden blinked at the strong phraseology. The Twi'lek replied hotly, /He is a war hero, leader of the resistance during the Mandalorian Wars. A man of vision with experience./ Then, he shifted, uncomfortable. /He…may not tell all the truth, but he works for the best interests of the people. Many realize this./

/He would start war to oust the good Queen. The suffering he would bring is wrong./

"Especially if his platform is that the Republic's brought war to Onderon," Darden murmured. "What do you think of Queen Talia, then?"

/Talia works with Republic,/ the Devaronian volunteered. /She rules peaceably, and is popular with her people./

/Her intentions are good, I admit,/ the Twi'lek conceded. /But those close to power see the mistakes she makes. Nobles, high ranking military, they all support General Vaklu. She does not have the experience of governing, which Iziz needs in these times./

Darden looked hard at the Twi'lek. "Who do you trust more?" she asked, quietly.

/Human ask good question,/ the Devaronian said approvingly. /I don't trust Vaklu. He lies to people, has been caught in them before. Talia is honorable./

The Twi'lek looked more uncomfortable than ever now. /The question is unfair,/ he objected. /Sometimes leaders know things the rest of us can't know. I may…not trust everything he says, or his people say. But he is also a man of honor. He never breaks a promise./

/But if you can't trust your leader's words, then how can you trust their motives?/ the Devaronian wanted to know. He turned to Darden. /Human sentient, what do you think?/

The Twi'lek, lekku twitching, turned to Darden, too. /I also confess, I am curious what you think,/ he admitted.

Darden looked levelly at the aliens, and directed her words to the Twi'lek. "This isn't my world," she said. "But I fought in the Mandalorian Wars. I saw what the Republic did for Onderon, for all the worlds the Mandalorians persecuted, no offense to my friend here."

"None taken," Mandalore said, amused.

"I saw what the Republic sacrificed," Darden said. "I support the Republic. Always. But beyond that, even—looking at this even more basically—"she shifted her gaze to Kreia. "A relationship, be it between friends or between a ruler and a people, is no relationship at all if it is not founded on trust." She looked back at the Twi'lek. "If it were given to me to decide, I'd support Queen Talia," she finished, firmly.

The Twi'lek looked thoughtful. The Devaronian nodded. /I agree with you, human sentient,/ he said. /Queen Talia has good thoughts and instincts. She will be a great leader./

/Let us discuss this further at the cantina,/ the Twi'lek said to the Devaronian. He bowed to Darden. /Thank you for your conversation, human./

The Handmaiden watched the aliens go. "I think you may have changed that sentient's mind about what is happening here," she said. "Yet you said you would not get involved."

Darden looked away from the girl as her face heated up. "It's good to know what's going on in the area you're scouting," she said. "And besides, they asked what I thought. Come on."

They passed into the western square, where Mandalore said his friend lived, but they were met by a Rodian at the head of four or five hard-faced beast-riders carrying heavy weapons. Darden froze.

The Rodian's bug-eyes glittered. /We don't get too many shuttles coming to Iziz anymore,/ he said. /Especially shuttles without passengers. A good friend works at the starport and noticed this. It raised some questions. Questions I've answered. So you are Darden Leona. Last of a dying breed, they say. Word from Telos is that you're too difficult to fight alone. So meet some of my new employees. The bounty on your head will make me, and my men, extremely wealthy. This is my lucky day./

"You really _do_ make the insects crawl out of the cracks, don't you, Leona?" Mandalore asked, bringing up his gun.

"Unfortunately these days I seem to," Darden replied, activating her lightsaber. It wasn't a difficult fight. They matched the thugs in numbers, and outmatched them in skill. But it was a nuisance. Darden looked around after it was done, but no soldiers came running. No nosy civilians. In fact, the buildings around here seemed more run down, less friendly. There were rubbish heaps piled around. "Your friend lives in a nice part of town," she said to Mandalore as he led the way past a cantina where music blared.

"Yeah—"Mandalore said. "He's not the best doctor you'll ever meet, but he's well connected in this city." He stopped up short before a long, low building. A window had been bashed in. "Doesn't look like he's here right now, though," he said.

Another bearded man wearing the green and red of the beast-riders was loafing around by the building. "You looking for Dhagon?" he asked Mandalore. "You're not going to find him here."

"Why?" Darden asked. "Where is he?"

The man jerked his head. "A soldier captain was murdered down at the cantina real good. They got some suspects at the tower. From what I hear, Dhagon Ghent is one of them."

"Mandalore—is your friend a murderer?" Darden demanded in a low voice.

Mandalore shrugged. "He's certainly capable of it, and probably stupid enough to get caught," he answered. "But we need him, suspicion of murder or not."

"Do you think Dhagon did it?" Darden asked the beast-rider sharply.

"Like I would know," the man laughed mirthlessly. "Iziz is a crazy place right now."

Darden paced a little circle. "Well. Which tower are they holding him at?" she asked.

"It's the turret tower on the other side of the market," he answered easily enough. "Captain Riiken is the man to talk to."

Darden nodded. "Thanks for letting me know."

"If you talk to him, tell him I have his twenty credits," the man said, moving off without making it clear whether he was talking about Dhagon Ghent or Captain Riiken, or telling Darden his name so she could pass on an effective message.

Darden stood staring at the pavement for a long moment, brooding. For all she knew, her ship was taken and her pilot was dead. The military was after her, bounty hunters and Sith were swarming, and the city was on the verge of civil war. She'd risked everything to come here and look for Master Kavar, and now a murder trial had been thrown in the works. It was just gallon after gallon of _bad_. She clenched and unclenched her fists.

"General?" Bao-Dur said quietly. "Are you all right?"

Darden shook her head sharply. "No. But let's go, anyway."

She turned on her heel and made for the marketplace again. But standing right there by the corpses of the beast-rider thugs and the Rodian was a Twi'lek and more thugs. Twice as many this time./Ah—this was your handiwork. I thought I was on the right track. Darden Leona, captain of the _Ebon Hawk_, is it not? Imagine what the soldiers would do to you if they knew you were wandering their streets. You're a wanted criminal now./

"And what if I am?" Darden snapped, fiercely.

The Twi'lek smiled nastily. /The Exchange has quite a bounty on you. Your head is worth many credits…as long as it's recognizable. I'd take you alive, but I doubt I could keep a Jedi from escaping. Dead will have to do./

He signaled his henchmen—mostly Rodians and Aqualish. They brought up their guns, and Darden felt Kreia bathe her with the Force's protection. She jumped into action.

Slice, duck, deflect the bolts. Reach out with the Force and—keep that one from targeting Mandalore. Actually, as Darden fought, she found that she was protecting Mandalore much more than she thought she would have thought she'd have to. He was slow, as if pained by many old battle wounds. It occurred to Darden that Mandalore was smart and experienced, but he wasn't as young as he used to be. He wasn't moving much faster than Kreia, and he didn't have the benefit of the Force.

The Handmaiden caught Darden's anxiety for the Mandalorian, and took up a position by his side. Kreia was taking out the outliers, and Bao-Dur fought with Darden, assaulting the main body of the attackers. Seven minutes later, sweating lightly, Darden glared down at the corpses. She knelt beside the Twi'lek corpse and stripped him of his Exchange death order, deleting the information on the datapad. She noticed, though, in his pack right behind it, was a starport visa. Figuring it might come in handy, she pocketed that. She stood, and kicked the Twi'lek.

"Okay. We're going to Nar Shaddaa next," she told Kreia. "I don't care _who_ we have to wade through or _what_ we have to do. We are overdue for a talk with this Goto."

"Let us finish our task on this world before we worry what to do on the next one," Kreia said.

Darden nodded, and checking Mandalore over for armor breaches or panting, and finding the man was fine, she started forward towards the marketplace.

Looking towards the fountain in the square, Darden tensed. Ponlar was at it again, it looked like. The crowd was rabid, and he was shouting out, "I won't remain silent any longer! The Republic has actively attacked us. They attack our space ships unprovoked! What next? An invasion? Perhaps they seek to conquer us. Will you stand idly by? Will you let them bomb our city?!"

"No!" the crowd shouted, shaking their fists. Some of them shook their blasters. Darden's heart started pounding.

"If Queen Talia is so far removed that she won't do what the people so clearly want, then we must show her. With force!" Ponlar cried.

Two soldiers came up to the fountain. "That's it, Ponlar!" one said. "We're taking you in! You've gone too far!"

But the crowd jeered and pushed at them. It would turn violent any moment. "Brothers and sisters, let us rise up now and march to the Palace!" Ponlar shouted, jumping down and starting towards Darden at the head of his crowd. "Our will cannot be denied!"

Darden swallowed, then stepped out in front of the riot leader. "Ponlar!" she said, reaching out into the man's mind with the Force. "You will stop this! You will go quietly!"

The man's mad eyes clouded. "I—I will—I will not!" he said, but his voice was weak. "My cause is just! The Queen must bow to our will!"

The crowd was muttering, shifting. Darden strengthened her grip over Ponlar's mind. "Tell everyone to stop and go home. Now."

She held her gaze and prayed it would work and civil war wouldn't break out on Onderon today. "My….my head," Ponlar muttered. He turned. "Everyone...everyone stop now!" he cried to his crowd. He walked up to the soldiers and surrendered his wrists to be tied. "I will go quietly."

The crowd, muttering angrily, began to disperse, nonetheless. The soldier looked at Darden. "I don't know what you did, off-worlder," he said as his companion secured Ponlar, "But thank you. That was a little too much for me."

The soldiers led the would-be rioter away. Bao-Dur shook his head and whistled. "You continually amaze me, General," he said. "A lot of people would've been hurt or worse."

"Your actions have averted disaster here," the Handmaiden seconded. "This was an admirable use of the Jedi teachings." She opened her mouth to say more, then closed it, looking at Darden with her searching eyes.

"We should move on," Kreia said. Her voice was tight, and Darden caught her disapproval. Her teacher would be one that would want things to take their course here, Darden thought. But she didn't regret what she had done. Ponlar was a rabble-rouser and an idiot, acting off faulty information. He would've led his mob to grief rioting had she not interfered. She turned away, and headed to the base of the air defense tower the beast-rider at Dhagon's office had told her about.

She had talked to Captain Riiken briefly before upon her arrival in the marketplace. He was a frank-faced, plainspoken man with handsome dark skin and an open gaze. He nodded at Darden as she approached. "I saw what you did over there, off-worlder. It was a brave thing. I'd have helped, but my orders are to guard this tower. If they'd come over here, I would have needed to defend it. Do you have a starport visa? I'd get out of here before things get much worse."

Darden shook her head. "I have business here, captain. Listen, I was told you have a man named Dhagon Ghent in custody?"

"We certainly do," Captain Riiken said. "He and several other people were picked up in connection to a murder."

"Yes," Darden said. "Of another captain. Can you tell me anything more specific?"

"The victim was Captain Sullio," Riiken told her. "She was in charge of the Starport checkpoint. A good soldier. Your friend was one of the last people that saw her alive. So far he's just a suspect. But if he did it, the punishment is death."

Mandalore stepped up beside Darden. In an undertone, he said, "Dhagon Ghent is the only person I know with the contacts to help you out. We need to get him out of custody."

Darden nodded. "How long is Dhagon going to be questioned?" she asked Captain Riiken.

He shrugged. "Until we either eliminate him as a suspect or find the real killer. Dhagon has quite a record with the authorities. The Colonel thinks that murder isn't too far a stretch for someone like him."

"That would be Colonel Tobin?" Darden said. Riiken's eyes narrowed, and she shook her head. "No, leave it. Can I visit Ghent?"

"No way," he said. "We're under orders to make sure no one sees the murder suspects. Command is taking this very seriously."

Darden let out a breath through her teeth in frustration. "Fine then," she said, controlling herself. "How can I eliminate him as a suspect?"

The captain's face softened. "Look, I know Dhagon personally," he said. "He's one of the worst doctors I've ever heard of. But I can't see him deliberately killing someone. He was one of the last people seen with Captain Sullio in the cantina. Ask around there. I've heard he's got a good motive for killing her. If you can somehow clear that up and prove that it wasn't him, command will cut him loose." He hesitated. "If I say anymore I'll get in trouble," he said quietly.

Darden smiled wearily. After all, the whole mess wasn't Riiken's fault. "I don't want that. Listen, you've been a big help. Thank you, sir. I'll be going now."

"Stay out of trouble," the captain said with a wave.

Darden stretched and turned to the others. "Back to the western square, then," she said. "And the cantina. But before we start asking around—let's eat, shall we?"

The cantina in this quarter of the city was a comfortable place with a good band and better food for all that it was in a bad part of town. A Quarren was running a swoop track in one room. Dancers entertained a group of beast-riders in another. A friendly looking Bith served up drinks as fast as you could blink. Discussions about politics were held in civil voices, and the pazaak players were relaxed.

Darden and her companions fanned out in the establishment, each seeking an hour or so of the entertainment he or she liked best. Kreia sat alone in the back corner, observing everyone and eating little. Bao-Dur went to the room where the swoop racers mingled, discussing bike modifications and design with the inmates. Mandalore sat down opposite a boy-faced pazaak player in the main room and struck up an earnest-looking conversation.

But the Handmaiden, for her part, stayed near Darden with her lunch. She picked at her food, stealing glances up at Darden until Darden couldn't take it. She laid down her drink. "Okay. What are you thinking?" she asked.

"You are very different from Atris' representation of you," the girl said at once. "I have been watching you, your actions, your battle forms. I cannot believe that you enjoy battle and warfare, from what I have seen. And—I do not believe you are fallen. Lost to the ways of the Force."

"You don't, do you?" Darden said.

"You are lost, exile," she said. "But I do not believe you are lost the way Atris thinks you are. You walk—you walk the way my father did, when he returned from the Mandalorian Wars, after the death of my mother."

Darden looked up sharply at the girl. "You said before your parents were a subject that required trust. Do you trust me with it, then?"

"I do. If you would like to hear more, I will speak of it," the girl said.

"I'd like to know about you," Darden said. "The others at the Academy are your half-sisters?"

"Yes. That is correct. Though I share my father's blood with my sisters, I wear the face of my mother. My father was Yusanis, an Echani general."

"Yusanis?" Darden repeated, raising an eyebrow and looking at the Handmaiden with new appreciation. "He was a hero."

But the Handmaiden's face was sad and grave. "He left our family to serve in the Mandalorian Wars. But his choice was not because of battle. He went to join my mother, one whose movements and spirit matched his. His only desire was that they fight together, side by side, for as long as there were enemies amassed against them."

"Who was she, though?" Darden asked, gently.

"I never saw her face, and she did not return from the final battle of the war," the Handmaiden told her. "She died in the battle that shattered Malachor V and her body was never recovered. My father returned from the Mandalorian Wars and did not enter battle again. He entered politics, a caste where one's battles are fought through words rather than action." Her voice was sad.

"What happened to him?"

"He was slain by Revan in the Jedi Civil War when Revan sought to destabilize the Echani worlds," the Echani girl said quietly. "She succeeded."

She caught Darden's gaze then, and lifted her chin. "The fact that our father chose battle is not shameful, but that is not the reason he went to war. He went to war to be with the one he loved, but not the one he had pledged himself to. He was disloyal. I am the mark of that disloyalty. It is said that such things run in the blood, and I have fought long to prove that this is not so. That is why I am different from my sisters. Yet I am pledged to them and to Atris, and I would die before betraying them." She swallowed, and lowered her eyes. "I tell you this in trust, and ask that you not speak of it to others. I only wish you to know."

Darden laid her hand over the girl's, and squeezed. "I will keep your confidence as if you were my own sister," she promised. "But why tell me now?"

The Handmaiden seemed to steel herself, then replied, "I said before you were lost. I believe you are lost in the way my father was lost after the Wars. When he returned, there was something wounded inside of him. He did not speak of what had happened there, and with us he was silent. Changed. When I look upon you—Darden Leona—I see in you an answer to a question I have searched for all my life. And that is why I tell you this now. I do not believe you to be the monster Atris made you out to be. I believe your choice was my father's choice, and it was just as difficult."

Darden looked down and let go of the Handmaiden's hand. "Your father went for love of your mother," she said quietly. "I went out of loyalty to Revan, and a desire to do right. Your father betrayed your sisters' mother, and yours sisters. I betrayed the Jedi Order I loved. Do you blame me, last of the Handmaidens? I gave the order that day for the destruction of Malachor V. Had I not done so, your life might have been much easier."

The girl shook her head. "Malachor V is the place where I lost my mother and my father," she said. "But it was their choice to fight the Mandalorians—and to die there, if Malachor was to be their grave." She looked across the cantina, at Kreia. "I know that it is difficult for others to see why I am here," she said quietly, "But it is important to me that you know one of the reasons, and know that it is not simply duty why I am here, but because I want to be here. I want to fight with you side by side, for as long as there are enemies that threaten you, Darden Leona. You are a leader—your stance, your every action proves it every moment. I watch you, and I am amazed, along with the Iridonian."

The words were a vow. Darden smiled sadly at the girl. When she looked at the Handmaiden, she saw the faces of the young Jedi she had sent to their deaths so many times during the Wars. "And so I am to be your General, too?" she asked softly. "I'm grateful. I enjoy your company, and I honor your help and valiance. And yet your loyalty is a burden, too."

The Handmaiden smiled back at her, a serious smile. "It is often so with leaders, I have heard. Shall we fight together, then?"

Darden nodded. Just then, Mandalore called her over. "If you're done eating, Leona."

She stood, and the Handmaiden followed her over to the pazaak table where Mandalore sat with the boy-faced player. "This is Nikko," Mandalore told her. "I've met him before, visiting Dhagon. He was here the night Captain Sullio was murdered."

"Darden," said the same, shaking hands with the young man. "You know Dhagon Ghent?"

"Know him? He's probably my best friend on this planet," Nikko said. "Honestly, he's not a very good doctor. But he is a great drinking companion."

"He's been hauled in as a suspect for the murder. Could he have done it?"

Nikko shook his head. "Never! Dhagon thought very highly of the good captain. I did, too. She had a sharp wit, that one. Sad to see her go."

Darden nodded. "Thanks. I might be back later."

"Or you could stay a while," Nikko said. "If you play pazaak, I'm always up for a game. Can I tempt you?"

Darden hesitated. She thought of another guy she knew that liked to play pazaak—much better looking than this kid, if not half so polite. Once again she hoped Atton wasn't dead. Then she sat. "Sure. But I should warn you—I have a friend that's taught me some stuff. I'm no pushover."

"Neither am I," Nikko said. "Every game, I play to win."

But Darden won.

After playing Nikko, Darden started asking around the cantina for other people that had been in the night of Captain Sullio's murder. Bahima the bartender backed Nikko up in his assertion of Sullio and Dhagon Ghent's friendship and belief that Ghent couldn't possibly be the murderer, but a Twi'lek named Kiph and a beast-rider named Panar had their doubts. Both of them recollected a terrible argument between Sullio and Dhagon the night of the murder. According to the two of them, Sullio had really ripped Ghent up one side and down the other, cussing him out with words the shady Kiph didn't know.

The hours passed by in quick in the cantina. It was going on sixteen hundred hours, Iziz time, when Darden noticed a man in the shadows had been staring at her for a while. He was a nondescript sort of man in fiber armor without tags. Short. Redheaded, with dark, searching eyes. He looked vaguely familiar. Darden made her way over to him.

"What's the deal?" she demanded. "You've been staring at me this past hour."

"General Darden Leona, isn't it?" the man said, starting to smile.

Darden blinked, and Bao-Dur made his way over, hearing her name. "Who wants to know?" Darden asked slowly.

"I served in the Mandalorian Wars with you," the man said. "Xaart. I was one of the ground troops. We fought on Dagary Minor together. It was near the beginning of the war. We, uh, we didn't win that battle."

Darden relaxed, but was saddened. "No."

"Enough of the past," Xaart said. "I was watching you because you shouldn't be here. The whole galaxy isn't safe for Jedi now. Especially here. Onderon has suffered through three wars started by fallen Jedi. Do you still serve the Republic?"

"Not directly anymore," Darden said, "But I help out where I can."

Xaart leaned forward. "That's the first good news I've had in months." Speaking quickly, he went on. "I was sent by the Republic Senate to investigate certain delicate matters that are happening on Onderon. It's worse than we feared. I have to get to Coruscant to deliver my report. But days before I was planning to leave they started requiring starport visas."

"What were you doing here?" Darden asked.

"I really can't say," Xaart said. "The most I will say is stay clear of General Vaklu. His ambition knows no bounds. I believe the people of Onderon are absolutely correct: a civil war is brewing. And Vaklu may very well win if I can't get to Coruscant in time."

Darden straightened. "You're going to get help. Look, Telos is a faster voyage. There's a Republic representative there, if your report is urgent."

"Thanks for the tip," Xaart said. "The journey to Coruscant would be more costly and attract more attention. But there are many freighters bound for Telos. But it still won't matter if I can't get an open starport visa."

Darden hesitated and opened her pack. "I've got an extra that belonged to a bounty hunter that came after me," she said, keeping her voice low. Two other people in the cantina had mentioned they were looking for visas. "If I can find someone that knows how to slice it open, I'll give it to you."

Xaart looked around. "Helping me is not without its risks," he muttered. "I know you have Jedi training, so you can probably handle it. But I may be being watched. If—if that would compromise your mission, perhaps we should go our separate ways."

Darden shook her head. "I'm more likely to compromise you than you're likely to compromise me," she told him. "I'll act quickly."

Kiph had hinted darkly enough about his profession that Darden knew she ought to go see him. But she didn't do so right away, lest the inmates of the cantina notice and start to talk. So, instead, Darden walked with Bao-Dur over to the swoop office. There, she talked with the Quarren that ran it, and Bahima the bartender, and two or three of the racers about upgrades and tracks and the fans on Onderon long enough that she knew everyone who'd seen her talking to Xaart would have forgotten about it. An hour, maybe two. Then she went over to Kiph, and gave him 500 credits and the visa she'd picked off the bounty hunter.

He went upstairs while Darden and her companions ate supper, and when he came down, he handed Darden an open starport visa.

Darden checked her chrono. To Mandalore she said, "It's going on twenty hundred hours. We should get a room here. We can do more in the morning—maybe ask Nikko why Kiph and Panar say Sullio hated Dhagon Ghent and find out more. But for now—"

"I'll get on it," Mandalore said, taking credits from Darden. Kreia went with him, probably to talk standards with Bahima.

Darden turned to the Handmaiden and Bao-Dur. "Don't stay too close," she murmured. "I don't want to attract too much attention when I go back and talk to Xaart."

"You got it, General," Bao-Dur murmured.

The Handmaiden edged away towards Nikko. Bao-Dur took up a position close to the beast-rider's room, but close enough that he could hear Darden and Xaart talk. Darden, for her part, ordered a drink, then wandered sort of aimlessly until she was sitting at a table next to Xaart's.

"Good to see you again," Xaart muttered, low enough that he couldn't be heard over the music and the hum of conversation. "Any luck with the visa?"

Darden didn't answer. She just laid the visa on the table and slid it forward.

"An open starport visa?" Xaart asked, incredulous. Darden inclined her head slightly. "You got one in hours! I've been looking for one for weeks. Thanks! You've done a tremendous service for the Republic. Now I have to catch the first shuttle out of here. May the Force be with you!"

"Wait!" Darden hissed. "In two minutes, I will get up and leave the visa. Five minutes after that, you take it, and ten minutes after that, you can leave. Got it?"

Xaart nodded, and turned away. Darden took a drink and did the same. Two minutes later, she got up, and left.

Bao-Dur joined her. "I wonder what his mission was," he murmured. "You may have just helped the Republic considerably."

Mandalore came in then and nodded at them and the Handmaiden. "We've got a room," he said. "Had to pay a little extra so the amenities would satisfy your friend, but it'll do us until tomorrow."

Darden thanked him, and the group went upstairs.

* * *

It was nearly twenty four hundred hours. The music still pulsed beneath the floor of their little room in this Iziz cantina. Mandalore was snoring. Darden had heard him take off his armor, but he'd retreated behind the partition Kreia had insisted upon to divide him and Bao-Dur from herself, Darden, and the Handmaiden. So Darden couldn't see the face of the man that wore the mask of Mandalore. Nor did she want to, really. Not now. He was helping her, seemed ready enough to be friends, and for now, like the Handmaiden, that was enough.

The Handmaiden was sleeping, too, using only the sheet for covering, though it was much warmer here than the arctic academy she had lived in until lately. Even Kreia had stopped meditating half an hour ago and lay down on a cot, though Darden didn't know if she was sleeping yet or not. Bao-Dur wasn't making a noise behind the partition, so Darden assumed he was asleep, too.

She couldn't. She sat on the window seat looking out over Iziz. Several lights were on in houses and buildings in the town. More than there should be. The city was rife with tension. Civil war, Xaart had said. Darden could feel it in the air. Taste it. And she had a nasty, horrible feeling that somehow, it would break out before she left Onderon, and it would be down to her in some way. Darden never sought war. She didn't want any trouble. But it had pursued her ever since she'd woken up on Peragus.

She looked over at Kreia's prone form, but shook her head. No. The woman wasn't a goddess, to manipulate every tiny little thing. She simply used the events that were already in place to steer Darden and her companions towards her way of thinking, and her ultimate ends, whatever they were. Or she tried to.

What happened here would have ramifications on the Republic as a whole. If Onderon fell, so did the Telos Darden had tried to help build. The irony of it was that if she had put Czerka in power two weeks ago, perhaps Citadel wouldn't have needed Onderon so much as now it did. But now, if Onderon seceded from the Republic, so would its resources. And without those resources, Telos would remain barren, and so would the other planets under consideration for restoration. And that wasn't even getting into what might happen if other war-torn worlds like this followed Onderon's example and sought independence. War breeding war. It went on and on and Darden was always there.

Yes, and she remained when everyone else had gone. Her fellow Jedi-soldiers. Underlings, like the Handmaiden's mother, that she had condemned to their deaths with a nod. Her superiors. Malak, whose death had ended the Jedi Civil War. Revan, gone who knew where. The other Jedi, the ones that hadn't fought. Save Atris, for all she knew they were dead. Should she succeed in freeing Dhagon Ghent tomorrow, still she had no guarantee that he could find Master Kavar. She had no guarantee she could find any of them. Perhaps she was the last of the Jedi, the last burning ember of a dying fire, and a pathetic one at that.

Darden looked back at her sleeping companions. Would they be extinguished, too, when the darkness came for her and she found there was no plan, nowhere left to run? She turned over the com-link in her hand. Maybe it was happening already, had happened already, and she just didn't know.

Atton. Whatever he said, he hadn't wanted to be involved in this. He wanted to aid _her, _plain and simple. Maybe because he wanted something she couldn't give. Most of the time Darden had thought in her three weeks or so of knowing the man that that was what it was. But sometimes she had wondered if maybe Atton Rand felt an attraction to her that was something beyond mere physicality. And at those moments she'd been more uncomfortable, afraid, even, than upon hearing even his worst sexual innuendos.

She hoped he was all right. She really did. Because despite the way he'd joked about her being crushed that she couldn't contact him—she _did _miss him, though she hardly knew why. And she _was_ worried.

There was a sound in the room. Darden turned and saw Bao-Dur come out. He hadn't slept. His eyes were shadowed. He saw Darden, and walked over quietly to sit beside her on the window seat.

"Can't sleep, General?"

"I'm not the only one."

Bao-Dur looked out over Iziz. "Having you here has an effect on me," he said after a moment. "I never noticed it years ago. I think my mind was too occupied, then."

"What do you mean?" Darden asked him.

"This planet is crazy," Bao-Dur said flatly. "Everything that's going on is crazy. But I don't know. I feel…calm. More in control. Listening to you talk, watching you work, things are starting to make sense to me. The anger is still there, but I can feel it drifting away. The last years of my life have been defined by it—"he added, looking back at Darden and then over at Mandalore. "The Mandalorians. Czerka. Revan. And above all else, myself, for Malachor."

Darden focused on the Iridonian mechanic. No matter what her worries were, his were the ones that were important now. "I gave the order, Bao-Dur."

He shook his head. "I never hated you, General," he said in a low, but fervent tone. "Never. It had to be done. But my hands destroyed the Mandalorians—and so many of our own soldiers. I cannot be forgiven for that."

Darden reached out and felt Bao-Dur's confusion and remorse roiling in the Force. She tried to smooth the turbulence, both with the Force and with her words. "There was a Jedi, once," she told him. "Ulic Qel-Droma. He turned and waged war on the Republic. But he repented, and was forgiven. Revan, too. I wasn't there, but they say they forgave her. If the two of them can be forgiven for nearly destroying the Republic, you can certainly be forgiven for saving it."

Bao-Dur's mouth quirked up and he caught Darden's gaze ironically. "Even if I did it out of hatred for the Mandalorians?" he asked.

Darden shook her head. "Except you didn't," she said. "Not really. You were angry because of the worlds you saw the Mandalorians destroy. You wanted to prevent that happening again. You wanted to protect us all." His aura was light—good—clear through. "I couldn't have said that, before," Darden told him. "But now that I've gotten to know you, I'm sure that's why you did it."

Bao-Dur looked away. "That might be the truth, but I don't want to see it that way," he said quietly. "I can't just ignore the blood on my hands."

Darden leaned forward. "Look at me," she said, fiercely. "Moving past the blood on your hands isn't the same as ignoring it. Bao-Dur—I think you—I think both of us have been living in the past for way too long. We can't change what happened then. We can't change what we did. But now—"as she spoke her words gained certainty, gained conviction. "We're doing something good. We have the power, right now, to help rebuild the Republic. To help save the Jedi from the Sith. To make the galaxy a better place."

Bao-Dur shook his head in admiration. "Maybe you do, General, but do I? If I could do something—help make up for what I did—"

Darden looked at him, evaluating. But she sensed that the time was right to tell him what she'd been noticing. "Bao-Dur, can I tell you something?"

"Anything, General."

"The way you have of building and fixing machines, of understanding the galaxy through circuits and chips. It's not just extraordinary talent, though it is that. It's the Force, working through you. I've seen it, these last two weeks. More and more. I'm still relearning how to sense the Force, how to wield it myself, but if you want to do something, want to help me help the Jedi, there is something you can do."

Darden paused, seized by the revolutionary idea she was having. Her heart pounded. She could hear the blood pumping through her ears, could sense Bao-Dur hanging on her every word.

"I was thinking, before you came to me tonight, that the Jedi Order is dying. But it doesn't have to. We can—we can restart the Jedi Order right here, right now. You and me. I can train you, I think—show you how to use the Force and find peace, and wield it to protect and heal the galaxy. If you want."

Bao-Dur was silent. Darden felt his emotions churning. Gratitude, yearning, incredulity, and for the first time in a long time, hope. "Under your guidance, I feel I could overcome my anger. General—I'd like that."

"Then here," Darden said. "Close your eyes. Last night, I opened my mind to yours and felt the Force in you, and I felt you respond. Can you feel me now, Bao-Dur? Reach out with your feelings."

Bao-Dur suddenly went very still. "I can—"Then, _"General?" _

_ "Yes," _Darden thought. _"This is me. This is you. This is us. This is the Force." _

_ "Teach me what to do." _

And so Darden Leona did. And that early, early morning above an Iziz cantina, the Jedi Exile became a Jedi once more, of a new Order, and began teaching her first pupil.

* * *

**A/N: I do like this chapter. Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden are fun characters to work with. **

**This is one of the chapters I had done. There are two more. I have started on the one-shots. They're okay, but I don't know that they're better than what I have here, yet. **

**Hope you enjoyed the chapter, at any rate. **

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp**


	16. High Politics

**Disclaimer: Oh, Master Kavar. I do not like you nearly so well as Zez-Kai Ell, but still I adore you. Yet I cannot claim you anymore than Darden or Atton or Handmaiden. Tragic day!**

* * *

XV.

High Politics

The next morning, Darden had maybe had three hours of sleep when the sounds of her companions rising and moving around woke her. She rose, feeling much more optimistic than she had the night previously. The sun was streaming through the window, and she could feel Bao-Dur's presence in the room. He was at peace, in awe, basking in the wonder of the Force.

Kreia could feel it, too. "What have you done?" she asked Darden as soon as she had sat up and washed her face.

"Bao-Dur can feel the Force," Darden replied levelly. "It flows through him. I'm going to teach him how to use it. I've already started."

She left no room for argument, none for contradiction in her voice. Kreia stared.

"It is not how it was done," she said finally. She turned to Bao-Dur. "You are far beyond the age of an apprentice, your paths set. If you do this, you will have to unlearn nearly everything you have learned over a lifetime."

"I'm already starting to do that, just following Darden," Bao-Dur said simply. "If the General can help me to understand what I feel, to use it to help heal and protect—it would be good. That's what I want."

"This breaks with all tradition, all convention," Kreia said. Then, unaccountably, she started to smile. "But then, this is an untraditional, an unconventional time." She nodded, and that seemed to be the end of it, for her.

It wasn't the end of it for the Handmaiden. She was scowling. "Atris would not approve of this," she said. "You were sent to find Jedi who had left the Order, not to train new ones. Do you really think yourself capable of training another in the Jedi ways, exile?"

Darden looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "What's this? I thought you were calling me by my name now. You did yesterday." She was a little hurt.

"The General is the most capable person I've ever known," Bao-Dur said calmly.

Darden shook her head. "I'm not—and if you have too much faith in me, Bao-Dur, you will inevitably be disappointed, and you may fall. I may very well prove to be a very imperfect teacher," she said, addressing both Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden now. "But the Force cannot be denied. Wherever it is felt, it must be acknowledged, and I feel this must be done. I pray only that I be granted the grace to guide where I lack."

Something in the Handmaiden's eyes softened, and she bowed, Echani style. "I apologize…Darden. I did promise to follow your lead. I will stand beside you."

Darden looked over her. "One day—not yet, I may speak more with you about this," she said, very quietly.

The girl shivered. She understood. While Bao-Dur hadn't felt the Force in himself before Darden had pointed it out to him, the Handmaiden knew what it was that she felt, or at least, she suspected. Hearing Darden's words to the girl, though, Kreia frowned.

Mandalore interrupted when she would have spoken. He was fully dressed in his armor once again. "These Jedi proceedings are all well and good," he said, "But they're not going to get Dhagon Ghent out of detention so he can help you. Unless you no longer need to get in touch with your Jedi Master friend?"

Darden shook her head. "No. We still need to find Master Kavar. We can talk about all this later, when we're done with what we're doing now." She nodded at Mandalore, smiled at Bao-Dur, and bowed for her companions to precede her downstairs.

The cantina was nearly empty, but Bahima and Nikko were already there. Darden ordered breakfast and went to sit across from the professional gambler.

"Welcome back," he said. "My deck is still warm, if you're up for pazaak."

Darden nodded and started to deal. "Sure am. So. Last night I was talking to some of the other people who were in here the night Captain Sullio was murdered. Kiph and Panar? They were saying that she was pretty harsh to Dhagon Ghent that night. Tearing him to pieces. That's a pretty good motive for him to kill her."

Nikko laid down his first card and they started playing. He shook his head. "Oh, no, by the four moons what a mix up!" he said. "They got it all wrong. Dhagon and Sullio were good friends. It's just when they got a little too much juma juice, they'd carry on. They'd call each other all manner of things. It could get quite hilarious really. But it was just friendly banter."

Darden nodded, and looked at the cards. Nikko had busted with twenty-one, while she was standing at nineteen. "Mmm. Pazaak."

"Dammit!" Nikko said, drawing for the next hand. "That night, Sullio was in great form," he continued. "Dhagon and I were laughing about some of the choicer ones later. 'Yellow toothed dung dweller', heh heh. We bought her a couple of drinks afterwards. It may look strange on the outside, but it was just their habit, their way of passing the time during these dark nights. Listen, if the soldiers think that's a motive, they just didn't do enough digging. Pazaak."

Darden sipped her fruit juice and ate a bite of breakfast. Mandalore was leaning up against the next table over, and he said, "That bit of information will help with clearing Dhagon, but the Onderon military won't let him off that easy. They're very obstinate. Maybe some of these people will know more about what happened that night."

Darden nodded and played her +5 card to get her total to twenty. "Okay, Nikko. My friend's right. If Dhagon didn't kill Sullio, did you see what did happen that night? Pazaak, by the way."

"I was cleaning up stakes from a particularly rewarding pazaak game—"Nikko told her. "—Not like this one—it looks like you're going to clean me out again. I heard a loud sound outside. I grabbed my blaster and went out the door. When I got out I saw Captain Sullio. She was quite dead. Blood was everywhere. I heard a noise and saw Dhagon Ghent coming from his office across the courtyard. We both waited for the authorities to get there. The next day they picked up Dhagon and several other people in the area. It's crazy to think he did it. Sullio was our friend."

His face was sad. "Where did you find the body?" Darden asked.

"Just outside the door by the junk heap," was the reply.

"It might be a good idea to take a look at the crime scene," Mandalore said. "We fought many soldiers in the Mandalorian Wars. The Onderonians were certainly brave, but they were disorganized and stupid. I wouldn't be surprised if they overlooked something."

Darden grabbed the last bite of her breakfast. "Right," she said, standing. "Come on, then."

She reached for her cards, and Nikko blinked, seeing she'd got pazaak again and won the game. "Wait, friend! Your credits!" He'd bet 250 on her losing. "Oh, cards are a fickle friend at best."

Darden shook her head. "Keep 'em, Nikko. It was fun. Thanks for the game. And the information. I might come back later."

Darden rounded up her companions, and together, they left the cantina, blinking a little in the sun. The junk heap was just to the right of the entrance, and there were traces of dried blood where Sullio had been killed a few days ago. Darden knelt, rooting through the trash. There was nothing. No blasters, stims, or recordings or anything of any kind. Just a lot of broken glasses and half-eaten food. Darden stood up, wrinkling her nose, and took out her canteen, pouring it over her hands. Then she saw the droid chassis.

It was a serving droid—complete with tray. But it was missing its head and several other components. Still, it had obviously only been there a few days. The wires hadn't oxidized yet.

Mandalore said what Darden was thinking. "Nobody we talked with mentioned a droid. This droid was destroyed recently. Someone inside the cantina might know more."

Darden nodded. "It's been scavenged. We'd do best to talk to the beast-riders. They seem to move half in the underground."

She turned and saw Panar, a swoop-racing beast-rider she'd talked to yesterday about the murder, just heading into the cantina. She quickened her stride and caught him just inside the door. "Panar—there was a scavenged serving droid. Just over there. At the site of Captain Sullio's murder."

Panar, a cruel faced man with a nasty scar down his cheek, sneered. "That Bith keeps buying droids," he said, referring to Bahima. "And the scavengers keep stealing them or blowing them up. Seems he's finally given up." His eyes left Darden to look at the waitress, a curvy sort of blonde with a vapid expression. They fell to her posterior, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a leer. "The waitress is awful, but she's more fun than his droids ever were." He moved to go, but Darden stopped him.

"Any idea which scavenger got to his droid?"

"I wouldn't tell you even if I knew," Panar snorted. "Could tell you where you could find the parts, though," he conceded.

"Then please do."

Panar gestured with his thumb towards the cantina door. "That western square has the perfect fence for droid parts," he told her. "There's a droid vendor called 1B-8D. That droid is as dumb as a Gamorrean. He'll buy anything 'cause he's too stupid to do anything else. 1B-8D is quite handy. Quite a few of the slum dwellers make a good living salvaging parts for him." He snorted again. "You might've even bought some." He moved to head off again.

"Thanks," Darden called after him.

"Don't mention it," he said over his shoulder. "Just scram."

Darden led her companions across the square. Just like Panar had said, 1B-8D did have serving droid parts. In fact, he had a head that looked like it just might be from the droid Darden had found near the scene of Captain Sullio's murder. Darden paid 25 credits for it, then tossed it to Bao-Dur.

He caught it. "The head's where the memory core of a droid like this is, right?" Darden asked. "See what you can get from it."

"Of course, General," Bao-Dur said. "This'll just take a minute—"he tinkered with the wires in the droid head, then smiled. "You'll want to see this. Here—it's his last visual feed. From the night of the murder."

Darden stood next to him and watched the feed on the tiny maintenance screen Bao-Dur had brought out of the droid head. The transmission showed the droid looking down at the body of Captain Sullio, then up at the feet of the murderer—but then the droid had been shot. All Darden had seen was that the murderer had most definitely come from the marketplace. The marketplace and not Dhagon Ghent's office. Darden snapped her fingers. "We have to show this to Nikko," she said. "He can testify that it wasn't Dhagon! Come on!"

Darden and her friends barreled back into the cantina and up to Nikko's table. "We've got it!" Darden cried. "Proof it wasn't Dhagon! Here, take a look at this transmission."

Nikko stood, excited by Darden's excitement. "If it'll help Dhagon, you got it."

Darden showed him.

"There's no way Dhagon could've done it!" Nikko said after he'd seen it. "I saw him coming from his office. That's the opposite direction from the marketplace. We should go talk to Captain Riiken and clear all this up."

* * *

Captain Riiken looked slightly bemused to see a troop of six people marching up to his tower. He resituated his blaster in its holster.

"No need for that, captain," Darden told him.

"What brings you here, off-worlders? And Nikko, is it?"

"Dhagon Ghent couldn't have killed Captain Sullio," Darden said.

Captain Riiken started to smile, but he said, "That's a bold statement. I assume you have some sort of proof."

Darden bowed. "Nikko will explain it."

The professional gambler did. Sullio and Dhagon's friendship, how he himself had been the primary witness to the murder and found the body, how he'd seen Dhagon coming from his office right after and how Darden had proved that the murderer had come from the opposite direction. To conclude, he showed Captain Riiken the serving droid's feed.

At the end, Captain Riiken was nodding. "That should do it," he said. "We still don't know who killed Captain Sullio, but this will greatly assist our investigation."

Just then, a wrinkled face old man wearing a major's decorations with a noble, haughty bearing, strode up. "Captain! This is the second time you have been seen with unofficial persons discussing military affairs! You have been ordered off this investigation. I hope you can explain yourself."

Captain Riiken held up his hands. "I had nothing to do with this, sir." He gestured at Darden. "This citizen found information about Captain Sullio's murder. It's material to the investigation."

"We've already got our man," the major retorted. "Sullio and this Ghent were fighting the night she was murdered. He had ample motive."

Mandalore snorted and muttered something like _Sloppy, _but Darden spoke over him hastily. "They were teasing one another, not fighting, sir. Regulars in the cantina can vouch for that, and for their friendship."

The major turned to her now and Darden felt the full force of his irritation. "Have you read the report?" he demanded. "Some of the things Sullio called him were vile. Sullio and Dhagon clearly hated each other."

"They were friends teasing one another," Darden repeated. "For fun. Friends do that. They just took it to an extreme."

The major swelled up like an angry Hutt. "You expect me to bel—"

Nikko cut him off. "It's absolutely true, major," he said. "I was a friend of both of them. They've done this dozens of times. Bahima, the bartender, can confirm it. As well as half a dozen other people. They were an odd pair, but they certainly didn't hate each other."

The major deflated. He cast around, then said, "I see. Well….there's still the fact that he was right there at the scene of the crime."

"That's true," Darden agreed. "Nikko saw him come from his office. After he found Sullio already dead outside the cantina."

She kept her tone calm, but firm. But the major swelled up again. "The only thing that matters to me is that he was within blaster range when Sullio was killed," he snapped. "And! He did not have an alibi," he added with the air of one who has sustained a great triumph.

"You want an alibi? Dhagon Ghent came from his office. Nikko will testify," Darden shot back. "But I found a recording that proves that the murder shot came from the opposite direction."

The major paled and looked suddenly nervous. "You have a recording? I'm sure you're just misinterpreting it."

"I've seen it myself, major," Captain Riiken put in. "Nikko isn't the only one that spotted Dhagon coming from his office. It really can't be Dhagon Ghent. The real killer is still loose."

The major hesitated, looking very unhappy. But finally he nodded curtly. "Very well, captain. Set Ghent free, then." He drew himself up and added, "But if later it turns out that he did do it, it's going to be on your head." He stalked away, Onderonian cape billowing behind him.

Captain Riiken gestured to a soldier next to him, and the soldier entered the tower. To Darden he said, "The men will get to work on releasing Dhagon Ghent right away. The major sure isn't happy. You handled that just right, off-worlder. Dhagon owes you a great deal." He nodded at the gambler, "You, too, Nikko."

"I'm just glad I could help, captain," Nikko said. "Thank you, friend. See you around, I hope."

He waved, and set off towards the cantina again. But Darden stayed. She looked at the captain. "The major really didn't want to believe Dhagon was innocent," she said quietly.

"This investigation has been handled at the highest levels," Riiken told her. "I've heard that there's been some…concern about that. With Dhagon free, I don't know if the investigation team will find another suspect. They haven't been as diligent as other investigators."

He looked at Darden meaningfully. She frowned. "Wait—but you have several other suspects in custody. You mean they were just rounded up? And what about Ghent? Was there some other reason the authorities wanted him off the streets?"

Riiken opened his mouth, then closed it, and shook his head. "I'm not going to say any more. Probably said too much already. If you head over to Dhagon Ghent's office, some men will bring him there shortly. Thanks for clearing the whole thing up. I could tell that justice wasn't being served. But we all have our orders." To himself he added, "We really need to patrol that sector better."

He waved Darden off, and Darden started back towards the western square.

* * *

Dhagon Ghent's 'doctor's' office was an absolute travesty. The instruments lay on a table that had obviously been used for eating, too, and they were dirty with rust spots and what looked like dried blood. The floor was dirty, the operating table was dusty, and the lighting was poor. The Handmaiden went over to a cot where a sheet was draped over a man and stared.

"Darden—this man appears to be missing his head," she said. "Mandalorian, are you sure this—doctor—can be trusted?"

Mandalore chuckled darkly. "I wouldn't go to him to make me better unless I were desperate, now, kid," he said. "But he can drink, and he knows people. He's a friend."

Darden looked at the shelves. They'd been rummaged through. "Looks like the place has been looted," she said. "Wonder if he'll want to talk to us at all."

"We have done him a service," Kreia said. "The least this physician can do is offer us five minutes of his time to hear us."

There were footsteps outside. "Yeah, yeah," a gruff voice said. "I can open my own damn door, thank you _very _much."

Someone laughed. "You take care of yourself, old man," a soldier said. "See you in the cantina next week."

The door opened, and a man walked in. Dhagon Ghent was tall and thin, with dark, cold eyes and a thin, sarcastic mouth. It was hard to tell his age, exactly, because his head was clean shaven, but Darden put him in his mid-fifties, maybe. His clothes were none-too-fresh, but then, he had been in jail for at least two days.

"Hello, Mandalore," he said. "They told me you were mixed up in this. Who're your friends?"

Mandalore turned his helmet towards Darden, and Darden nodded.

"This is Darden Leona," the Mandalorian said. "These others are Bao-Dur, Kreia—and—I never did catch _your_ name, girl," he added to the Handmaiden.

The Handmaiden looked out of the window and didn't answer. Darden snorted. "She doesn't use one," she said. "Thinks it encourages her to think of herself when she's devoted her life to the service of others. It's ridiculous, but also kind of inspiring, to tell the truth. If you talk to her, she answers to 'Handmaiden'."

Dhagon looked the girl over. "Echani, eh? Weirdos, the lot of them. Strange company you keep, Mandalore."

"Strange times," Mandalore answered. "Leona here did most of the work getting you off, though."

"Thanks for getting me out of there," Dhagon said with a nod. "As detention cells go, it had definite class. But I prefer being out on my own all the same. I owe you and Mandalore one."

"Yeah, well, you didn't do it," Darden said. "Do you have any idea who really killed Captain Sullio?"

Dhagon shrugged. "No, and at this point I don't care. She wasn't bad to look at, and she could drink, but she's gone now. And I'm just glad to be free."

Darden shifted, a little uncomfortable by the man's callousness. "This place is kind of a mess. It looks like someone robbed you while you were out."

Dhagon Ghent cast a cool eye over the room. "Looks like it," he said, relaxed. "Although it pretty much looked like this to begin with."

Darden blinked, and the Handmaiden made a small noise of disgust. "Really?" Darden asked. "This is an operating room."

"A little dirt never killed anyone," Dhagon said. He shrugged. "Well, maybe a few people. But they didn't pay too well, so they got what they deserved. I give my customers a menu of options. If they go for the deluxe, I'll clean up the place and put on a new smock. Otherwise, they knew the risks."

"Don't you call them patients?" Bao-Dur asked.

"Patients, customers, idiotic Hutt spawn…call them what you like," Dhagon said, leaning up against his wall. "Most doctors tell you that they got into the business to save lives. Most of them are flaming liars. At least I'll tell you the truth. I'm in it for the credits."

Darden couldn't help but laugh a little. He was so—so out there—so utterly at home in his sordid business. It was a little disgusting. But a little hilarious, too. And she could see why Mandalore would like this plain-spoken man. "Well. You won't get mine next time I'm wounded on Onderon," she said. "So. How do you know Mandalore, Ghent?"

Ghent shifted, looking at Mandalore. "We go way back," he said. "Way before he became Mandalore. In my experience Mandalorians always know about the doctors around. For some strange reason they keep getting into scrapes. If you want to know more, ask him yourself."

"I might do that," Darden said, looking at her armored companion. "Someday. Anyway," she continued, turning back to Ghent, "He said you could help me out. I need to get in touch with someone probably in the palace."

Ghent focused and turned around to his looted shelves. He started looking around on them. "Not many people can help you out with that," he said to Darden. "There've been several assassination attempts on Queen Talia. That place is locked tighter than a Hutt's vault. I know a few people, though. Who do you need to get in touch with?"

So it'd be tough. Darden kicked the leg of the table she leaned against. "All hail General Vaklu," she muttered under her breath. Mandalore, who was closest, let out a dry laugh. "All right," Darden said, more loudly. "I'll come clean. There's a Jedi Master I think is in the palace. I need to talk to him."

Dhagon was still rummaging around in his stuff. "A Jedi Master, you say?" Now that is interesting. There's quite a bounty on Jedi these days."

Darden stiffened, and Dhagon turned around to look at her, smiling sarcastically. "I'm not looking to collect," he said. "But if there's a Master at the palace, I think I know who it is."

"Really. Tell me about him," Darden said, her heart beginning to race.

Dhagon shook his head. "I'm not certain, otherwise I'd tell you. But the man I'm thinking of is smart, likes to stay in the shadows, and is as cryptic as hell. If he isn't a Jedi Master, he should become one."

"Can you get a message to him?" Darden demanded.

Dhagon's mouth quirked. "There's a slight problem with that," he said. "I know you don't want to hear that, since you did go to all the trouble of springing me out. The thing is—" he gestured to his shelves. "The stuff the scavengers stole—most of it's garbage, so I don't care too much. But I did have a couple of encrypted holodiscs that they nabbed. So here's the punch line. I need those discs because they have some contact information on them. The people I know you don't just walk up to and chat with. There's a procedure. And those holodiscs have the procedure."

"You need them back," Darden said, sighing. "Got it. Do you have anything for me to go on?"

"Bakkel's gang pretty much owns this street," Ghent said, referring to the leader of the local beast-rider thugs. "I bet she's the one that cleaned me out. She's in the local cantina most days. She's tough as drexl leather and more dangerous than an angry Wookiee. If you take Mandalore with you, though, you should be just fine. Get me the encrypted holodiscs, and if there is a Jedi Master in the palace, I'll get you a meeting with him."

Darden nodded and turned to her companions. "One more hurdle, then. Come on. Let's go."

* * *

A few hours later, Darden and her companions were back at Dhagon Ghent's office. Bakkel hadn't wanted to give up the holodiscs. There'd been a big fight, and Darden and her friends had been thrown out of the cantina. Not before they'd stolen Ghent's holodiscs back, though, and nabbed Bakkel's open starport visa in the bargain. Mostly because she'd made Darden angry.

Darden had taken the starport visa to a family in the marketplace—a widow and her two young children seeking to flee Onderon before the civil war and start a new life. She and her companions had picked up the midday meal in the marketplace, and now they were back.

The headless body was gone, at least. Dhagon Ghent was eating his meal, too, carving his meat up with his scalpel. Darden swallowed, feeling as if she might puke. But Mandalore just laughed.

Dhagon Ghent chewed. "Big to-do in the cantina an hour or so back," he said. "Did you get the encrypted holodiscs? I won't be able to get ahold of my contact from the palace without 'em."

"Yeah," Darden said, sliding the discs over the table. "Here they are."

"Great going, there," Dhagon said, finishing his food and leaving the dirty dish (and scalpel) on the table. He stood up and went over to his shelf. "By the way, even if I can arrange this meeting for you, I still feel I owe you something. If they'd convicted me in that tower, I'd be very dead right now. Found this in my hole under the shelf. Bakkel's flunkies missed it. Got it off a Jedi I treated a few years back. Er—he didn't pay too well."

He tossed something at Darden, and Darden caught it. She looked it over. It was a lightsaber—single hilt. She activated it, and the blade hummed to life. It was a dark, dark blue. She smiled softly, and deactivated it. "Bao-Dur. Catch."

The Iridonian caught the hilt and stared at her. "General—I—"

"I fully expect you to modify it to suit you and only you," she said. "And if you find a focusing crystal someplace you like better you'll change that, too. I'll teach you how to use it as we go along."

"Your friend's a Jedi, too, huh?" Dhagon said.

Darden shrugged. "As of this morning."

The good doctor grabbed the holodiscs and went over to a wall terminal. But he hesitated before inserting one. "I can check my contacts at the palace and get a meeting with your Jedi Master shortly," he said. "If you've got anything you need to take care of in the quarter, you best do it now. You're dealing with some serious politics by contacting them. If things go bad during the meeting you might not be welcome in Iziz anymore. Perhaps never. D'you really want to go through with this?"

"We're sending up a flare, are we?" Darden said. She threw back her head and shouted, "Jedi here!" then laughed. "Let them come. Arrange the meeting."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll get on it," Dhagon said. "Grab a cot and rest a bit. Once I get a meeting time, I'll let you know."

Darden looked distastefully at the medical beds. On one of them, just hours ago, a corpse had been lying. So she didn't lie down. Instead, she grabbed Dhagon's dirty plate and scalpel and went over to the fresher to wash them.

* * *

IZIZ PALACE, KAVAR

Kavar, once formerly a Jedi Guardian and Master, looked down at the message in his hand. He could _feel _her presence. Not like before the Wars, vibrant, enticing, so very alive. So inspirational just in her nature. His dearest pupil, and later, his friend. Not like after the Wars, empty. Dead.

He felt the exile's presence like a whisper now. A whisper growing louder. A vague disturbance in the Force. There was something odd about it, but it was her. He could feel her grief, feel her experience, feel the suffering that she had been through in her years away from the Republic. But he also sensed something else. Hope.

It could not be coincidence that she was here now, she, the pupil that had outmatched her teacher in strategy and warfare. Now when things were darkest she came to him, and requested his aid.

He would not refuse her. He had already wronged her, possibly, many years ago. And never had he given her the explanation she deserved as his friend. Kavar crumpled the message from Dhagon Ghent in his hand and left the room to tell Queen Talia of his intentions.

* * *

IZIZ, WESTERN SQUARE, DARDEN

Darden was awakened when Dhagon reentered his office. She wrinkled her nose to realize that she had fallen asleep after all. She felt Mandalore laughing at her, and sniffed. It had been several hours. It was going on twilight.

"Well," Dhagon said, "The meeting is on. Head straight to the cantina. Your guy should be in there. And no offense, but I hope I never see you again."

Darden smiled wearily and shook the doctor's hand. "None taken. If I wanted to live quietly these days, I wouldn't want to see me, either. Thank you, Dhagon Ghent. Goodbye."

She beckoned her friends, and the five of them set out for the cantina. Nikko tried to hail them when they came in, but Darden was completely uninterested in him. Kavar was there.

He was- he was there. It occurred to Darden that she hadn't until this moment really believed they would find him. Her old master was older. There were lines around his eyes and mouth and faint strands of gray in his fair hair, but he smiled at her, and Darden went up to him, wonderingly.

"You must have gone through a lot to arrange this meeting," he said. "The Palace is at full battle readiness. Smuggling in a message is no small task."

Darden grinned. "Small tasks are boring, anyway," she said, as she had done nearly twenty years ago on several occasions when he had demanded to know why she hadn't done her chores and he had instead found her tackling exercises Jedi three years older were attempting. "You know me, Master Kavar."

"Kavar, huh?" Mandalore said. "The famed Jedi Guardian. The Mandalorians counted on the fact that it would be you, not Revan, who would lead the Jedi against us during the Mandalorian Wars. I wonder how we'd have fared fighting against you. I thought you were killed fighting Malak during the Jedi Civil War."

A faint frown line appeared between Master Kavar's brows. "It seems my former student keeps curious company," he said to Darden. "Strange times lead to strange alliances, though. I have my ways as well. Why are you here? I imagine that you hold little love for any on the Jedi Council any more, even an old friend."

Darden looked up into his face and opened her mind to his. "It hurt," she said quietly. "When you turned on me, too. Why did the Council cast me out? I came back. Many before me had done worse than I and had yet been accepted back into the Order—and after me—you welcomed Revan…?"

Master Kavar looked pained. He put a hand on her shoulder, as he had done many times before. "You have to understand that it was a time of great uncertainty," he began. "We had just learned that Darth Revan was back with an armada. But there was more to it than that. And I think you deserve an explan—"

"Am I interrupting?" a cold, nasal voice cut Darden's master off. She turned to see a man in Onderonian military-issue armor. A high-browed man with a long, thin nose like a hawk and the colonel's stripes. Darden knew without question that this was Colonel Tobin. He was flanked by six or eight hooded soldiers in uniform. She activated her lightsaber and took up a defensive stance.

"I thought for sure that the _Ebon Hawk_ was mine," Tobin said, addressing Darden. "I was certain. Only to see you slip through my fingers during the battle. Imagine my delight to discover you were on Iziz. Quite careless, if you ask me. Get them, men!" he snapped. "And watch your aim. Civilian casualties cause a mess of paperwork."

"I must return to the palace," Kavar said. He reached out with the Force, and Darden felt him temporarily stun Tobin's soldiers. He started to run. "I'll get word to you when I'm able," he called back to Darden. "Run!"

"Wh—what have you done to my men?" Colonel Tobin demanded, looking around. "Blast!" He started running after Kavar. "Men, take care of her!" he yelled at the soldiers whose eyes were starting to refocus. "I won't let Kavar escape!"

Kreia drew her vibrosword. "For the sake of subtlety I suggest we avoid using grenades, and any other weapons that may injure civilians in this battle," she said.

Darden shook her head. "We're light-years past blindingly obvious, Kreia," she snapped. "But of course we aren't going to hurt civilians!"

The soldiers were bringing up their weapons, and Darden flew at them. She passed Nikko. He was drawing his blaster. "You're that one?" he demanded. "Captain of the _Ebon Hawk? _And a _Jedi_?"

"Guilty!" Darden yelled at him, "But I never fired first in that battle. They attacked me! Just like they're doing now!"

She cut down a soldier and Mandalore sniped down another with accuracy Darden reminded herself to commend him for later. "Head for the door!" she bellowed to her friends.

"I shall guard the rear!" Handmaiden called.

"No, I will!" Nikko said, blasting a soldier. "Good luck, Jedi! May the Force be With You!"

With Nikko covering their retreat, Darden and her companions ran out of the cantina. Soldiers were streaming out of buildings with guns. "Shield!" Darden yelled, activating hers.

They waded through soldiers. Mostly, Darden tried to incapacitate, so as to move more quickly. Some she had to kill. The Handmaiden and Bao-Dur showed similar restraint, but Kreia and Mandalore weren't so fussy. Darden felt Mandalore's pleasure at the battle.

After about fifteen minutes, Darden staggered into the marketplace at the head of her group. A soldier ran down from the sky ramp that accessed the palace. "Wh—what's happening in the west square?" he demanded, wide eyed and fearful. "It sounded like battle! Command's ordered comm blackout. Do you know what's going on?"

"Vaklu's soldiers have been attacking us, that's what," Darden breathed, looking behind her. But no soldiers ran out. She took a hasty drink of water.

"What! Why?" the young man asked sharply. "That makes no sense. Command hasn't issued any alerts. Are you sure it wasn't some of those beast-rider slags? They've been getting bolder recently."

Darden shook her head. "I'm sure. It's the middle of the day, and I saw the uniforms on the people trying to kill us."

"You—you must be mistaken," the soldier stammered. He had a decent face. "Soldiers don't just attack civilians without orders. If it weren't for the comm blackout, I'd check with command. Just head for the safety of the merchant square, citizen. We'll send a patrol to investigate as soon as we can contact our HQ."

He ran back up towards the captain on the sky ramp. Mandalore watched him go. "Not all the military is after us," he observed. "Still, Vaklu can throw a whole army at us. I think we've outworn our welcome over here. We should head back to the spaceport before General Vaklu invents some charges against us. Then we'd be in real trouble."

Darden nodded. "You're right. Let's go."

She took off at a run through the market. Halfway through, some citizens detached from the crowd and Darden distinctly heard one of them say, "You know what to do."

A blaster shot fired over her head. Darden yelled out, "Keep running! The last thing we need is for the populace to see a Jedi attacking civilians!"

Then there was another shot that sounded quite different. "The diagnostic is doing something strange," a soldier by the wall said to his friend. "'Target acquired'. What the hell does that mean?"

Darden saw with horror that the Onderonian turrets up on the wall, used in old days to defend Iziz from the beast-riders, were activating, swiveling their guns to point—

"Turrets!" she screamed, throwing up a last second wall of the Force. The lasers hit it and bounced off. Mandalore started shooting at the turrets, running all the way. Fortunately, the civilians chasing Darden's group saw the turrets and drew back, afraid.

Kreia reached out with the Force and a turret crumpled, smoking. Darden followed her teacher's lead, feeling the turret's circuits and crushing them with the Force. She felt someone touch her mind, then someone else reached out with the Force and did the same to a third turret. Bao-Dur! His connection with her and his affinity with machines gave him a natural feel for how to destroy them now in this moment of crisis.

They had reached the checkpoint to the starport. Darden threw her visa at the guard, who fortunately proved to be one of the clueless ones, and not one of Vaklu's.

He scanned her visa and thrust it back at her as his partner pounded madly on the turret console, trying to shut down those that Kreia, Bao-Dur, and Mandalore hadn't destroyed. "Your visa's been scanned," he said quickly. "You're cleared to leave. I'd leave right away. Things are going crazy in this quarter!"

Darden didn't stay to be told twice. The Handmaiden led the way into the starport, and the fire stopped.

"The shuttle's just ahead," Mandalore called. "We should get out of here, fast. It's going to be some time before they forget about us here. No more trips to Iziz until the situation changes here. A lot."

They ran to the Mandalorian shuttle and strapped themselves in. Mandalore had it up and running in two minutes. Then they flew out of the bay and off the planet. Darden felt behind her, though, and she could sense people still shooting.

"Dammit," she swore. "I think that right there was the start of the Onderon Civil War."

"It's not your fault, General," Bao-Dur said.

"Is it not?" Kreia said. "From a narrow view, perhaps we did not instigate the fighting on Onderon. But those in power there chose to use our presence on that world, and the Jedi's emergence from his fortress, as excuses to begin their war. Had we not gone, would fighting still have broken out?"

"We did not choose what happened," the Handmaiden argued hotly. "The extent of Darden's choice was to land on that world and to contact the Jedi. The fighting was the choice of others. We share no blame."

Darden nodded. "You're right. We don't. Our consciences are clear. But Kreia's right, too. If we hadn't gone, what happened might not have happened. And I fear that Onderon, and the galaxy at large, is far more likely to see it in that light than in yours, last of the Handmaidens."

"More trouble, then," Bao-Dur said.

"Looks like it," Darden said. "If the _Ebon Hawk_ is—that is—if we still can, we should leave the system right away." She bit her lip, wondering what she'd find when she went through the jungle to the _Hawk'_s landing site. Half afraid of what she'd find.

They docked on Dxun—a few hours earlier in its day than Iziz had been. The day was just starting to cool. And while it had been sunny on Onderon, here it was raining. Again.

"We're back," Mandalore said as they stepped out into the Mandalorian camp. "The shuttle is going to stay docked here until further notice." He paused then, and turned to Darden, regarding her. "I'm not ready to part company yet," he said. "It sounds like you have a lot of traveling to do. So do I. I'm going with you."

It was not a request. He continued, "The Sith have taken a particular interest in you, and you could use an extra blaster. I've been meaning to leave Dxun to look for the other Mandalorian clans, anyway."

Darden remembered the interest she'd observed Mandalore carefully not expressing towards her ship when they'd first met. "You want to help me stop the Sith? Why?"

Mandalore shrugged. "The Sith aren't known for sharing power. If the Jedi Order is destroyed for good, it's inevitable that the Sith will dominate the Republic. And then my people will be eradicated or enslaved. Helping your cause is a matter of necessity. Mandalorians helped Exar Kun during his war. We know firsthand how we'd fare in the service of their like. But that's enough for now. We'll have time to talk later."

They were solid, good reasons. But Darden couldn't help feeling there was more to Mandalore's desire to accompany her. She opened her mouth to ask him more, but a voice cut her off.

"Hey! You're back. The Ebon Hawk is patched up and ready to go. Been sitting here most of the day waiting for you to get back. Any time you're ready to go we can just ask the guide here to take us back to the ship."

Darden whirled.

* * *

**A/N: ****So there's one more chapter I have mostly ready to go after this. I am still working on this story, though. I've got down two one-shots, too, but as one of them is only okay while the second is fabulous I haven't decided whether or not I'm going to replace this story with a series of them. I need more data. Anyway, I haven't abandoned this story quite yet. **

**Updates will be slower, though. I've been so absorbed in this I've been neglecting stuff I really ought to be taking care of. So you might find you only get an update once a week, or once every two weeks, rather than every other day or so, if when I've finished the next couple one-shots I don't decide I like them better and replace this with that. **

**Anyway, coming soon: The game is afoot and the stakes are rising. On the larger stage, the Dark Lord of Hunger has made a play, sending his emissary to assassinate the threat he sees in Darden Leona. But when the emissary arrives, she may not feel like doing her master's bidding. On the smaller stage, the entire crew is back together again and the long voyage to the Smuggler's Moon has begun. With two new crew members and Bao-Dur in training, relationships are reevaluated and new discoveries are made. Darden Leona learns that she is not the only person in her crew that distrusts Kreia, and that her pilot has methods of his own to protect himself from the old woman's searching thoughts, or, perhaps, to hide his true motivations and feelings from Darden. **

**R&R!**

**May the Force Be With You,  
LMSharp**


	17. Games with High Stakes

**Disclaimer: Visas isn't mine, either.**

* * *

XVI.

Games with High Stakes

There he stood, dripping with the rain, smiling at her. Darden looked Atton Rand up and down. He was undoubtedly all in one piece. Darden took in a breath. "You—you—" Slowly, she stepped forward. His smile grew wider, like she was going to hug him or something. Yeah. That was going to happen. Darden punched him in the arm. Hard. He was wearing that stupid leather jacket of his, and not his armored shirt—the idiot had been lazing around here, not in danger at all—so the punch connected, and it hurt him.

His eyes widened in surprise. "Ow!" he cried. "What was that for? I've been working like a bantha down here trying to patch up that rust bucket—"

"—And you should've fixed the comm _first thing_!" Darden cut him off fiercely. "You _spacebrain_! There've been Sith, _hordes _of bounty hunters—I was worried sick! I couldn't get a hold of you—I was sure they weren't _all _idiots and you were dead and the _Hawk_ scrapped!"

Atton stared at her. Then, slowly, he began to smile. "_You_ were worried about _me_? I didn't know you cared, sweetheart. Did you miss me, then?"

Darden glared at him. "Come on," she said to the others disgustedly. "Let's go."

She started walking towards the entrance to the camp, where she knew Mandalore had a guide posted. She could feel the others watching her, and it made her angry. Angrier. She was relieved, but embarrassed to be relieved, too. After all, hadn't Mandalore said he'd sent a guard to the _Ebon Hawk_ to keep her ship and its pilot safe? Hadn't the Handmaiden pointed out that the Sith sensed their prey through the Force and would follow her? Hadn't she noticed that not a single bounty hunter had mentioned her ship, except as having escaped in the space battle? Yet she'd worried like an idiot, and she _had_ missed him, too. He was almost skipping as he lengthened his stride to catch up and walk beside her, and she looked over at him and couldn't think of a single reason why.

"You've missed _everything_," she snapped. "Just everything. A civil war's started on Onderon. We found Master Kavar, allied with Mandalore here, _and _I'm training Bao-Dur as a Jedi."

"Well I knew you'd allied with Mandalorians when one showed up at the _Ebon Hawk_ and offered to help out with repairs," Atton said. "But you're training Bao-Dur as a Jedi? Since when?"

"This morning," Darden said shortly. "He's been sensitive his entire life. I think I can help him understand it."

Atton looked over at Bao-Dur, shaking the rain out of his hair. It was a useless effort, as it was still raining. "Aren't you a little—y'know, _old_?"

"The programming of any droid, however old, can be changed provided the programmer has the skills required," Bao-Dur replied.

"Yes, but does _she_ have them? She's _crazy_. You're going to trust her to train you?"

Mandalore laughed. "He's not bad, Leona," he said. "Who are you, pilot?"

"Atton Rand, Mandalore," said Atton. "Can't say I'm pleased to meet you." He nodded to the Mandalorian waiting at the edge of the camp and without a word the guide turned and started walking them to the _Ebon Hawk_.

Mandalore seemed to evaluate Atton. "You're an age to have fought in the wars, aren't you? Did you fight my people with the Republic?"

"I don't do history," Atton said shortly.

"He's been a help, Atton," Bao-Dur said. "I may not—I may not be happy that he's coming, but I have to admit that much." His voice was passionate, and Darden knew Bao-Dur _detested_ that Mandalore was coming.

Atton looked down and saw Bao-Dur's lightsaber. "Hey, you've got a lightsaber," he said. He saw Darden's. "_Both _of you do."

"Like I said," Darden said. "You missed _everything_." She glared at him again. "Don't _ever_ be out of touch for days on end like that again. Not with our lives the way they are now."

Atton grinned, but said nothing. "So—your Master Kavar. Did you talk with him?"

Darden shook her head. "Not for more than a minute. Our old friend Colonel Tobin showed up and started the Onderon Civil War in the cantina. He ran. He says he'll contact us. For now, we're moving on. Your favorite planet, Rand."

Atton slowed and stared at her. "You're kidding. I know that Master Zekey Ell is there, but I assumed we'd hold off on looking for him until we had at least another two Jedi Masters with us. Those bounty hunters will eat us alive."

"It's Zez-Kai Ell," Darden said. "And yeah, maybe so. But maybe they'll take us to Goto. And I want to talk to him. That crime lord has got my attention in a big way. I could hardly turn around on Iziz without a bounty hunter trying to blow my brains out."

"Suddenly, I would very much dislike to be this Goto," the Handmaiden remarked.

Atton barked a laugh. "If anyone's crazy enough to take on the Exchange and manage it, it's you. But I can help you lay low on Nar Shaddaa, if you're sure about this."

"Good," Darden said curtly, quickening her pace still further, losing the Mandalorian guide and her companions. She knew she was making a scene. Being ridiculous. And she couldn't take the weight of the Handmaiden and Bao-Dur's stares, or Kreia's judgment, or Mandalore's silent amusement any longer. Particularly because she couldn't think of a single reason why she had been so worried, or was so annoyed and relieved now to see the man she'd been worried about. She was behaving illogically, and she hated that more than anything.

* * *

The path had been cleared of beasts by the Mandalorian guard, and maybe by Darden herself. At any rate, Darden didn't encounter any difficulties and in thirty minutes she'd reached the ship. Her com-link buzzed.

"Hey," Atton said. "You haven't died or anything, while you've stormed off in a huff, have you?"

"No!" Darden cried angrily. "Get off the line, you idiot!"

"Just trying to follow orders, _General_. Keep in touch. Don't want you worried sick over me or anything. Or any of us. The guide says we're about ten minutes behind you. You really moved."

Darden snorted. "Yeah, well, three days without you. I'd got used to the quiet. Over and out."

She shut the com-link off viciously and activated the boarding ramp. She boarded the _Ebon Hawk _and called out, "Teethree! I'm home!"

No answering cheerful beep replied. No wheels sounded. Instead, Darden's words echoed through a ship that sounded too empty, and ominous. Darden felt out with the Force, and sensed a Darkness, waiting for her, emanating patiently from the portside dormitory, the men's dormitory.

She activated her lightsaber and followed her senses. There was—there was a woman there, standing at rest. She was dressed in black and red robes, and veiled.

"What—who are you?" Darden demanded. "Where did you come from?"

And then the world went black. Darden couldn't see anything. Not the ship beneath her feet or the Sith assassin that had boarded or the lightsaber she had activated. She heard, though, heard the hum of the lightsaber that wasn't hers, heard it grow closer as it swung towards her head. Instinctively, she raised her own saber, and felt that she had blocked a blow. The assassin bore down upon her, but she was weak. Darden threw her off. A whistle, Darden swung to the right, blocked again.

Darden felt out with the Force, depending upon it to save her as she had not since Peragus. It was all she could trust, all she could rely upon now that this Sith woman had done something to her vision. And somehow, she found she could see, sense where her opponent was, guess how she would move. Darden fought. She kicked, sliced, parried furiously, seeking any advantage. Once, twice, she felt her lightsaber hit something that didn't hum angrily with the sound of lightsaber on lightsaber. The ship's wall? Her opponent? She didn't know, because the assassin made no outcry. But finally, she sliced down, and connected and sliced through something. Metal. Her eyesight abruptly came back, nearly blinding her again with its brightness.

The Sith woman was kneeling at her feet. "My lightsaber…" she panted in a low, rich, passionate voice. "You have destroyed it. I yield…Master. It is as I heard through the Force. My life…for yours."

Darden stared at her. "What, like I'm supposed to kill you now?" she asked, dumbfounded. "What are you doing here?"

Darden bent over the woman—she _had _connected. Only partially. It looked like the woman had been able to deflect her strikes and keep her from cutting her in half, but Darden had got in a deep stroke on her right shoulder, and above her left knee. She could smell the burnt, cauterized flesh. "You must kill me!" the woman cried. "The alternative is only another death, and I would rather die by your hands."

Darden shook her head, at a loss. She heard the boarding ramp screech open again. "Look—you're wounded," she said. "I'll help you to the med bay."

"I…I have nothing to offer you," the woman said, rising, half-sobbing. "Your strength is superior. It is as I have felt." She gasped, and collapsed in a faint, overcome by pain.

Darden caught her, stumbling under the weight of the taller woman. "Somebody give me some help!" she shouted. "She's hurt!"

Atton ran in, followed by the Handmaiden. "Kreia said you were being attacked! What—who the hell is that?"

"I think she's a Sith. I hurt her—help me get her to the med bay."

Atton strode forward and picked the woman up off of Darden. "A Sith—and we're taking her to the med bay?" he said.

"She yielded," Darden said.

"Are there more? Is the enemy here?" the Handmaiden wanted to know.

Darden shook her head and followed Atton to the med bay. "No. I think she's alone. She's different. Not an assassin like the others—a trained Dark Jedi."

"Are you all right, General?" Bao-Dur said, falling into the train in the corridor. "When Kreia said—"

"I'm not hurt," Darden cut him off. "Does anyone know anything about medicine—she's not human. I don't know the biology—"

Bao-Dur shook his head. The Handmaiden skipped a step and looked over at the Sith woman's pale face with its delicate bone structure and red lips—lips not tinted by any makeup. "Humanoid," she said, "But not human, nor Echani nor Zabrak nor anything I recognize. I cannot help you."

They'd reached the med-bay. Atton lay her down on the cot and removed her veil. Darden gasped. The woman was entirely without eyes. Not that she was blind, but she literally had no eyes. The sunk-in sockets where they should have been were scarred over, but there had clearly never been any eyes there and the damage was of a different kind. Atton breathed in.

"I can treat her," he said.

"Fine—then everyone else out," Darden said.

She stood across the cot from Atton, looking down at the alien Sith woman.

Atton slowly peeled down her vest and the top of her robe so as better to look at the shoulder wound. "Now I've seen everything," he muttered. "This woman…she's a Miraluka. I didn't think any were left in this part of the galaxy."

"You've seen them before?"

"Yeah," he said. "Their kind see through the Force. I've heard of her kind that became Jedi, but a Sith—that's a new one."

He opened the medical supply barrel Atris had stocked back on Telos and brought out some ointment. He started to rub it on the lightsaber burn.

"You weren't the first one to hurt her," he said. "Look—here, and here—"he pointed out scar after scar on the woman's neck and collarbone. Some were indented flesh—lightsaber wounds, like Darden's. Others were old electrical burns—the kind Darden had seen inflicted by Force Lightning. Still others looked like they had been made by whips or chains or other instruments of torture. Atton rolled down her robe, and Darden called a length of linen from behind him in the bin and laid it over the woman's breasts, but she'd already seen it. The entirety of the woman's torso was covered in scars like the ones on her shoulders.

Atton's jaw twitched, and he bandaged the woman's shoulder with another length of linen. "Lightsaber burns—you can't do much but deaden the nerves until the skin grows over the hole," he said. "Not without the Force. If you wanted to try, though, the veins and arteries ought to be in the same places as on a human."

Darden nodded, and Atton flipped up the skirt of the woman's robe. "Hold off on that," he said. "I think this is what made her pass out, not that." He pointed to the burn just above the Miraluka's knee. It was deep, almost to the bone. Darden stared.

"She didn't even cry out," she murmured. "Didn't say a word!"

"You might've severed a major artery there. If it were a vibroblade, she might be dead," Atton said. "I don't know if she'll be able to walk, though, unless you—"

Darden already had her hands on the Miraluka's leg, though. Concentrating on the patterns of the muscle, of the veins and arteries in the thigh, Darden felt the blood start moving again. The cauterization faded away, and the leg started bleeding, heavily. Darden focused with all her might on reknitting the vessels together again, sealing the breach. Blood gushed over her hand to the wrist, but slowly, stemmed. Muscle started growing in through the gap, and tissue. Just before the scar developed, Darden gasped, and let go, completely drained.

Atton had been watching her with a blank expression. He rolled the woman's tunic up over her breasts to cover her up again and removed the length of linen, wetting it with water from a pure jug in the supply bin. Then he tore it in half. Half he handed to Darden, and she started scrubbing her hands.

Atton smeared antibacterial over the wound Darden had nearly repaired and wrapped the other half of linen around the Miraluka's leg, securing the bandage with a pin. "The Miraluka had a colony on the Mid Rim," he said then. "About two—three years ago now. Almost halfway between Onderon and Dantooine. Then…it wasn't there anymore. The whole planet was wiped out, nothing left alive. No one knows why. If she's from there—"

"Will she be all right?" Darden asked, looking down at the woman.

Atton frowned. "She tried to kill you," he said.

"And then she stopped," Darden replied.

"She'll walk again, thanks to what you did," Atton said. "And she's already carrying her share of scars. She's a survivor, this one. Give her a couple of weeks, and I don't guess she'll be any worse off than she was before."

Just then, the woman stirred. Her lips parted. "I—"

"Hush now," Darden said. "You're in the med bay of the _Ebon Hawk_. Your wounds are being treated. Rest. No one will harm you."

"Kill me," the woman begged.

"You yielded," Darden told her. "A Jedi doesn't kill her prisoners. Sleep. Just—what's your name?"

"Visas," the Sith whispered, and her breathing deepened as she fell back into unconsciousness.

Darden looked up, to find Atton regarding her with a mixture of wonder, longing, and—yes, disgust. Something almost like contempt. But he seemed impressed, too. His face was at war with itself, and she felt his emotions were in tumult, though she couldn't get a better read on them than that. "You're a Jedi now, are you?" he said.

"Not of the Order, but yes, I think I am a Jedi again. Or becoming one. Of a sort. It's the only way that I can see myself where all this starts to make sense," Darden

Atton's lip curled. "You were always a Jedi, sweetheart. Now I guess you've just stopped lying about it. Well. At least now when the Sith come after us you can tell 'em they're not crazy. They really can try to kill you and they're on the right track. And then you can bandage their wounds and try to turn them to the Light Side." He laughed, scornfully.

"You really hate Jedi, don't you?" Darden said, staring up into Atton's face. "I've noticed it before, but now—Do you hate me for what I've done here? Do you think I'm a fool?"

Atton looked at her, and relaxed just a little. "Nah, I don't hate you," he said finally. "It's crazy, leaving an assassin alive, but then, I knew you were crazy when I signed up on this trip."

He smiled, but the darkness remained behind his blue eyes, and Darden knew she wouldn't easily forget it, nor that he had shown capability treating this woman—Visas—but no horror at her scars, no compassion.

"To Nar Shaddaa?" he asked. "Mandalore sent the scout back to camp for supplies, but we should be ready to go in a couple hours."

"Yeah," Darden said. "But you're in charge of Visas, Atton. Take care of her. Tell me when she wakes up, and when you think she can talk. If she proves to be more threat than help—we _will _chuck her out the airlock, or leave her on Nar Shaddaa. Deal?"

Atton had folded his arms, but now he nodded. "Just as long as we do. I'll go help Bao-Dur and that spy load up supplies."

Darden stopped him. "Atton—"

"Yeah?"

She hesitated, then plunged ahead, cheeks burning. "I _did_ miss you, okay? And I was _really_ worried. Thanks for your help here."

Atton's ears turned pink, like they always did when he was particularly embarrassed. He looked away. "Yeah, well, uh, I worried about you, too. Just a little!" he added hastily. "But you do have a tendency to turn planets upside down, sweetheart."

Darden frowned. "Unfortunately," she murmured, looking out of the med bay and thinking of Onderon and Master Kavar. "I hope they're all okay. Or will be."

* * *

ATTON, EN ROUTE TO NAR SHADDAA, 3 DAYS LATER

It'd be another two weeks, easy, to Nar Shaddaa. Atton sat in the cockpit, staring out at the hyperspace tunnel, thinking of routes across the galaxy.

The Sith woman had risen today. Atton normally didn't get along with the crew too well. That spy hated him for some reason—not that he had much use for the schutta, either. And as for the newest volunteer for their little gang of psychopaths—this guy that called himself Mandalore—Atton didn't know what he wanted, but he surely had an agenda. Bao-Dur was all right, for all that he was more droid than organic as far as Atton could tell. But Atton was finding opinions entirely reversed over what to do with the Sith—this Visas. Mandalore and the Echani girl agreed with him that Darden would've done better to deepen the lightsaber wounds instead of heal them, to cut the assassin right in half, or, if she didn't have the stomach for that, chuck her out the airlock before she woke up.

But Darden was having none of it. Her new "Padawan" backed her up, of course. But then Bao-Dur would've called the sun black if Darden did. Darden had spent most of her time these past three days training him when she wasn't in the med bay worrying over the lady that had tried to kill her. As if Atton hadn't been following orders, changing her bandages and reapplying the burn medicine twice a day. _Not_ that he hadn't thought about gutting her, or at least waking her up and trying to get where she'd come from and how she'd found them out of her his way, before she had the chance to lie to Darden and make her buy it. Atton scowled, then sighed and shook his head. Too many eyes around. There would be questions he wouldn't want to answer, if he tried to find out how the Sith had found them, where she came from, and why the hell she'd surrendered.

Surrender. That was the key, wasn't it? Darden wouldn't kill someone that had surrendered to her, wouldn't deny someone that offered to help just 'cause they _might_ be a risk. She'd set the pattern with Atris' girl, and she was sticking to it with Mandalore and Visas. No one much liked it. But—everyone was grateful Darden had that policy towards _them. _Atton laughed grimly. All the distrust, all the resentment; she walked into the room and it vanished. The entire crew adored her, for all her snapping and awkwardness and stupid tolerance of people she had every reason to distrust. Even Mandalore—he respected her. Maybe the Sith had seen that, somehow. Sensed it. Maybe that's why she'd surrendered. Anyway, she owed Darden now. Big time.

Maybe that's what it was, really, beneath the tolerance and patience and kindness, behind the generously bow-curved lips and the big, green, searching eyes with those ridiculous lashes. Maybe Leona just knew she needed them, knew how to make them her soldiers and twist them around her little finger. Probably that was it. Atton had seen her face go blank under those long, thick bangs and that dusting of freckles. He'd seen her body go still and watched her ruthlessly calculate chances of survival—who she needed to use and what she needed to give and do. And he'd seen her take out what stood in her way. But if she could manage it, she never, ever threw away something she could utilize. So maybe each twisted, sad little person on this bucket was an asset to her. Probably they were.

It was the extra stuff she did that threw him off every time, Atton thought, scowling. Like back on Telos—she'd saved a couple of people that couldn't ever pay her back, ones she'd never see again. Done more than she needed to without asking for any reward. He'd seen some of it—that Sullistan outside the cantina and that Duros that was in debt to the Exchange. Giving those credits back to the Ithorians when they hadn't even asked. Others he'd only heard about that morning he'd gone out on his own. The dancing girl and the smuggling ring. He couldn't for the life of him figure out exactly how any of _that _had helped Darden. Unless she did it all out of guilt. It was possible. But if she'd said she had done the right thing, the necessary thing, then why was she still guilty?

Atton stared at the instrument's panel. It was no good. He didn't hate her, couldn't really believe that she was anything more or less than what she looked. It had been easier before. When Darden had just been another ex-soldier, exiled from the Jedi Order, wielding a blaster and not a lightsaber and hardly able to feel the Force she'd been an exception. Now she'd built another lightsaber, taken on a Padawan, was starting to call herself a Jedi again. Part of him—a large part—was trying to put Darden in the old boxes. Old training was trying to reassert itself, but it didn't work anymore. Either he had changed, or she was exceptional. Maybe both.

But he was as much of an idiot about her as the rest of them. More. Because he respected her, wanted her respect, wanted to protect her as much as the others did. But he couldn't forget the rest of it. He didn't want to be her student or her soldier like the others, wasn't content being her friend. He wanted—

And sometimes he thought he was crazy, because it didn't make sense and she was a Jedi, had been one her entire life, deserved way better than him, anyway, but sometimes he thought maybe. Just maybe. And she was training Bao-Dur and spending an awful lot of time watching the unconscious Sith woman. But when she wasn't—she was here. Actually he thought that was why the old witch and the Echani girl had been so mad at him the last three days, because they missed her. And he hadn't been imagining it, after she'd returned from Onderon. She'd said she'd missed him, that she'd worried. And anyway, a woman didn't get that worked up over someone she didn't care about. Did she? And she never _had_ slapped him. Yesterday she'd smiled when he'd said something that, now he thought about it, he maybe should have been slapped for. She watched him sometimes, like she was trying to figure something out. Other times she acted like she was scared to death of him.

It was subtle. Atton figured he was probably imagining it. He sure wanted to see it badly enough. Maybe once they hit Nar Shaddaa he'd take a couple days off, try and get her out of his head with something a little more realistic. Except, he thought, Darden'd probably need him once they landed. A hundred bounty hunters would be on them the second they landed if she couldn't stay low. And she wouldn't be able to. Not without him.

Dammit. Atton started counting cards, letting the game consume his thoughts. It was safer, in more ways than one.

* * *

DARDEN, MED BAY

Darden left the fresher, cleaned up after her lesson with Bao-Dur. It had only been three days, of course, so he wasn't very far beyond feeling _her _in the Force. But he was showing an aptitude for sensing the impulses in Teethree and his remote, and even the workings of that broken HK unit in the storage compartment. She'd started him on some of the simplest forms of single-hilt lightsaber combat, too. Single-hilt because he'd always fought with a single vibrosword and he'd chosen not to modify his single-hilt saber. Simple because he was still getting a feel for the weapon, and Darden had to try to remember the forms herself in order to teach him, and the simplest ones she knew best. They went over the movements, the stances, first with vibroswords, and then with the lightsaber.

It was mostly drills, right now. Getting the forms into his muscle memory. Later, perhaps, they would spar. She didn't think he was ready for that, though. His emotions were still so turbulent, for all he didn't speak them often. Yesterday with Mandalore she had seen some of what was in his heart. Darden thought Bao-Dur would need to do a lot of talking, thinking, and meditating, a lot of sensing with the galaxy and learning to control, rather than to be controlled by, his emotions before he was ready to combat in earnest. Still, he was eager to learn, eager to defend her and their cause and, oddly enough, most of the rest of the crew, for all he didn't talk to them much. Protectiveness in fact seemed to be a keynote of Bao-Dur's feelings. Had he been trained in the traditions of the Order years ago, she thought, once he had gained enough knowledge and experience, he might have chosen the path of a Jedi Guardian. She thought she might tell him as much a little further down the road. He wanted to be a shield for the good, and against what was evil.

But he was also proving to be her only ally in her decision about Visas. When she had told him of the Miraluka's scars and her surrender, of her desire to die, he had wanted to help her, too. Atton, the Handmaiden, and Mandalore had been vocal more than once about their opinion that the woman was more of a risk than an asset. Kreia wouldn't say what she thought, but Darden sensed she disapproved of Visas' presence on board, too.

But Darden couldn't forget her plea to die, her insistence that she would rather die by Darden's hand then what? Kill her? Or be killed by who had sent her? She couldn't know, because the woman had remained unconscious these three days, though steadily healing.

Darden made her way to the med bay to look in on her, and this time, found her sitting up on the cot. Visas' head turned towards her, either because she had heard her or sensed her some other way. She had replaced her veil. She slid off the cot to her knees before Darden and bowed her head.

"My life, for yours," she said in her low, passionate voice. It was a beautiful voice, Darden thought. Throbbing with expression. She thought she would have liked to speak like that.

"You're awake," Darden said. "Are you alright?"

"I am able to serve. If we enter battle I will fight and die alongside you," Visas promised.

Darden shook her head, before realizing the movement was meaningless to a blind person. So she stooped, took Visas' hand, and pulled her to her feet, then led her to the cot.

"Sit down. I didn't ask if you were able to serve. I asked if you were alright, Visas."

Visas sat, and her lips parted slightly, confused. "I…I have not heard that question in some time. My flesh is…healed, if that's the answer you seek."

Darden sat beside her. "Not entirely, but it will do for the present. The wounds I gave you were not the only ones we saw, treating you. Who hurt you?"

"The scars are many, and the causes equally so," was the reply. It wasn't an answer. "It is of no importance."

"There were other Sith," Darden said. "Others that attacked the Mandalorian camp on Dxun. But you didn't come with them, did you? You're on your own. How did you find me?"

"I…felt you. Heard you through the Force. It was like a sound, at the edge of hearing. And when I heard it, I found I could not ignore it."

Visas had sensed her across the galaxy, then. Darden stared at the Miraluka, a bit awed by her perception. "But you didn't come because you wanted to. You didn't try to kill me because you wanted to."

"I did not wish to destroy you. How could I?" Visas said. "I wanted to find you, to understand. I raised my blade against you because my Master ordered it."

Darden went still. "Your Master," she repeated.

"Yes. I serve him. I am an emissary, a scout. My Master was aware of a disturbance in the Force, but was unaware of its nature, of you. The disturbance is not something one feels from a living thing." Visas paused. "There is little my Master does not know, and that you eluded his sight for so long…is significant, but I do not know why."

Darden sensed, without knowing how, exactly, that this Master Visas spoke of was one of the Sith Lords Kreia had told her of. Not Sion, whom she had met on Peragus. Not the traitor, whom Kreia had referred to as a woman and Darden thought at times must be Kreia herself. But the third. The one whom even a thought could draw, whom Kreia seemed to fear even as she claimed he must be destroyed. "Where is your Master?" Darden asked sharply. "How can I find him?"

Until now Visas had been sitting still beside her, facing ahead and answering Darden's questions calmly. Now she stiffened and turned her body so she faced Darden. "You cannot," she said. "His vessel roams the borders of known space, and even I do not know where he travels…until he…calls for me. Even if I could lead you to my Master, I cannot permit you to find him…until you are ready."

Darden had suspected, before, that the horrific wounds on Visas were due to her Master. Now she was sure. "What do you mean, ready?" she asked.

"If I bring you before my Master, untested, without your potential realized, then you will be lost to me," Visas said, voice shaking. "And I cannot allow that to happen. It would be as if one brought fire to a paradise valley, shattered a cavern of rare crystal…or blinded a painter."

Darden stared at the Miraluka. "Visas—do you even know my name?"

"I do not. Yet I will defend you to my last breath. Now I have found you, seen what you are—"

"My name is Darden Leona," interrupted the same. "I am a woman like any other, yet if I could, I would stop your Master. He threatens me, and more than me. If by facing him, I could ensure that he would be stopped, that he could no longer hurt others—as he has hurt you, I sense—then what is my life? Help me find him."

"I cannot, I will not!" declared Visas. "I would die first, and gladly, to preserve you untouched, unharmed—Darden Leona. Now that I have found you, I cannot sacrifice what I have found."

"But—what he's done to you, what he threatens to do to the galaxy—he must be stopped."

Visas went still. "You will meet my Master," she said at last. "It is inevitable. I have…seen it. And when you stand before him, and realize what you face, you must be prepared. Until then, I must protect you, help you, until you are ready."

Darden shook her head, awed. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, after a long moment. "I nearly cripple you and you swear loyalty to me. You don't know me, yet you would betray your Master to protect me and help me confront him. I don't understand."

Visas' lips curved up. "Nor can I comprehend why you heal one that tried to destroy you, how you persist bearing the wounds of the past that have left you almost dead and yet feel hope, seek right, if it even exists. There is a greatness in you, a greatness that does not stem from the Force. It stems from who you are, Darden Leona. I see this. And if my Master does not understand you, cannot see you, then perhaps there is hope for us all. But if you seek to survive, then you must understand why this is so."

Darden frowned. "You said before your Master cannot see me. Why can you?" _And how are you able to see so much that I don't, _she wanted to add, _Enough that you sacrifice for me this way? _

"There is much I see my Master cannot," Visas replied. "I fear it is because of my nature, the nature of my race. My people spend their lives seeing the galaxy, the energy streaming of stars, the growth of life—all things touched by the Force."

"And where are they now? What happened?"

Visas' head bowed, and she folded her hands in her lap. "It is not a subject which I have spoken of—since its destruction."

Darden had asked Atton more about the Miraluka world in this sector—apparently it had been called Katarr. She knew now Visas referred to that planet's destruction. "Atton told me that a few years ago Katarr –everything on it just—ceased to exist," she said slowly, haltingly. "How—I mean—that sort of destruction. It's impossible."

"It was not a thing done with machines or weapons," Visas said in a near whisper. "The Force is far more terrible, and it touches more lives than any machine can hope to slay. For every one that feels the Force, strongly, deeply, each one feels and perceives it in their own way. You have strengths, though you seem not to know it. My Master has his. His power is great, and it comes from hunger. He is a wound in the Force, more presence than flesh, and in his wake, life dies…sacrificing itself to his hunger. And those that feel the Force strongly are beacons to his hunger. My people, my planet, would have been attacked in time, it was inevitable, yet we could do nothing about it."

"And it was all destroyed," Darden said. Her heart hurt, and her eyes stung, and a great wave of guilt crashed over her. Was what this Sith Lord had done to Katarr any different than what she had done to Malachor, though he drained the Force and she'd used a machine? "I have seen similar acts of destruction," she said, and her voice broke. "I have—I have done similar acts of destruction."

"Not you!" Visas said fiercely. "If indeed you are Darden Leona, then know that I have heard tales of Malachor. It is said that many of my people felt the end of the Mandalorian Wars from across the galaxy. But do not mistake me. I do not mean to draw comparisons between Katarr and Malachor. My homeworld still exists. It is intact."

Then what Darden had done was worse, because Malachor was not. It was splintered, broken, and nothing would ever grow there again. Or nothing good. Her throat tightened and she felt cold all over. "Yet you survived though nothing else did?"

"I am not certain I did," Visas replied. "I was there when the planet died. To see everything around you extinguished…it…was as if I was blinded. It was as if the Force had…been bled from the world."

Ten years of emptiness, of damnable quiet and intolerable stillness echoed in Darden's spirit, and she said, quietly. "It was as if everything suddenly went silent, and you were alone, without sense."

Visas head lifted, and she turned her face to Darden. "I imagine there are worse deaths. Worse pain. But if there are, I do not know them. I was the only living thing remaining on the planet of Katarr…and my life, my agony, was a flicker in the darkness that was the planet. All that I had been connected to had been severed."

"You're the very last one of your kind in this sector, aren't you?" Darden asked.

Visas bowed her head again. "I still wonder what would have happened if I had died with the others," she confessed. "If perhaps there would have been some way to hide my presence from the galaxy. If only I had not…felt that pain, that loss, as strongly as I did. But it could not be done. When the life was bled from the planet, and yet, somehow, I remained, my Master came for me. He walked upon the surface of my dead world, and there, lying in the bodies of my dead race, he took me for his own. And he made me _see_. And for the first time, I saw the galaxy. And I wished to die."

Darden wondered if Visas had _ever _spoken of this. The pain, the sorrow was just pouring out of her along with the words. Visas had no tear ducts. She couldn't cry. But Darden was. Silent tears spilled from her eyes and dripped of her nose and chin. What had this woman suffered these years? "What did he make you see, Visas?" she asked, keeping her voice steady only with the greatest effort.

Visas expressive voice went hard, bitter. "To this galaxy, my world, absent the currents and spectrums of the Force, was nothing but crude matter, rock, flesh, emptiness. He showed the flickering of life on other planets, the mass of beings that swarm through the empty places of the galaxy. To see such creatures, disconnected from themselves, their world, their place in it, unable to see the currents and how they affected everything around them—"disgust, anger, hatred were swirling around her now, and Darden saw how this compassionate, sensitive, gentle woman had become a Sith.

She wiped her tears. "Why do you think he showed you this?" she asked, gaining strength now.

"He showed me to make me believe in his cause," Visas answered without hesitation. "He convinced me the galaxy, all life, must die. He fed upon its ugliness, its screaming, and in its place, he left silence…and where there was chaos, he brought stillness…and order."

Now Darden was angry herself, though not at the galaxy. "His order is a mockery and his silence worse," she spat, unable to control herself. "And as for what he showed you—"she trailed off. It was all wrapped up in the way Visas perceived the universe. That was clear. So instead of contradicting the vision of the galaxy the Sith Lord had presented to Visas, Darden asked, "How do you see?"

Visas raised her head again. "My people once had the power to perceive events," she said quietly. "To _see_ through the Force. That sight may manifest itself in many ways, and at times I may affect the abilities of others to see as well."

"Like you did when we fought," Darden said, nodding.

"Even so."

"But the vision you once had, it's been lost. Altered. Since your Master found you," Darden said.

"My sight has been damaged," the Miraluka agreed. "I can see you now. I could sense you across the galaxy. But once—what I see now is not the full extent of the perceptions of my people. My master, when he showed me my world—showed it to me as it is, it…hurt. And since that moment it has been difficult to perceive the Force as I once did. But now that I have met you, see you more clearly, I feel that perhaps there was a gift in it, hidden beneath the pain."

Darden was silent, thinking. Kreia seemed to know who she was through report, and then through observation, or their bond. Bao-Dur knew her from experience and the Handmaiden by observing her body language and expressions. Mandalore judged her by her actions in battle, both against his people and for them. But this alien woman seemed to know her differently. She had heard tales of Darden's past, but she sensed her through the Force and judged her by that. From that, she knew where Darden had been, what she had felt. Or at least, she seemed to. "You're talking about my exile, aren't you? What's happened to me since Malachor, and what I've done with it."

"Through all the pain, you have endured," was the simple reply. "And you are stronger for it."

Darden looked at the woman curiously. "And it gives you hope."

"Only when one suffers do certain truths become evident—both of the galaxy, and of the self. I feel you are an example of this."

Darden was quiet again. "How do you see through the Force?" she asked at last.

"If you wish to know," Visas said after a moment, "Perhaps it is possible to show another what my people see…what I see. First you must close your eyes. The surface of this ship, its sights, will only be a distraction."

Darden closed her eyes.

Visas spoke slowly, concentrating on helping her. "Now. In your mind, reach out, listen for my breathing. Do not focus on the sound, but the life behind it. Imagine its energy, its texture, in tandem with the breathing."

Feel _her_, she meant. Listen for _her_, through the Force.

"And then, in your mind, step back from the image, and see what remains."

Darden forgot about Visas-the-image, the willowy Miraluka woman in long loose black and red robes that hid the scars of years of abuse. She forgot about the veil that hid the sightless eyes, and instead focused on Visas-the-woman. She heard, felt, _saw _the life of the woman, her Force signature. Her despair and her pain and her newborn love and devotion for Darden. It blazed as brightly and burned as hotly as a star, and it had all the gravity of one. She _saw_ Visas, and felt her nearness, and she was at once touched, and afraid.

"There," Visas said, and Darden opened her eyes. "It is not as difficult as I thought. You learn quickly. It will take effort to maintain such sight, but you now have that power. And with it, you can use it to see life around you in a different way…as I used to see it."

Darden heard the strain in the Miraluka's voice, and she felt a twinge of guilt. The woman had just woken up today. It had been selfish of her to keep Visas talking so long. "You're tired," she said. "Rest now. We'll talk more later."

Darden stood, but Visas said, "Forgive me, but before you go, I must ask. Why do _you_ do this? You heal me, welcome me, seek to help me. I sense you would teach me, if you could. _Why_?"

Darden knelt before the medical cot and took Visas' cold hand between hers. "I _would_ teach you," she said, pressing it. "I would remind you that the galaxy is not ugly, not terrible. I would teach you again to see that life is beautiful, and that though your Master has done unspeakable things to you, to your world and to your people, you need not be alone, devoid of all connection to others. You felt me across the galaxy and you choose to help me now. I think you know that I can teach you this, want me to teach you this. And so I know that you are not lost."

Visas squeezed Darden's hand so fiercely it hurt. "You _must_ not do this!" she said, passionately. "I cannot allow you to weaken yourself for me."

Darden withdrew her hand and stood. "To help another is not a weakness," she said. "You ought to know. It is a connection—a strength to them both."

Visas bowed her head. "So you say, but it is not something I have observed."

"Because you have been hurt, and taken away from connection and kindness, into the dark and cold and empty places. But if you stay with me," Darden promised, "I'll show you. Rest now. I will return."

Visas lay back without demur, but Darden could see through the Force that she would not sleep. Not for a long time.

* * *

WOMEN'S DORMITORY, THAT NIGHT

When Darden came in that night—it had been her turn to clean the synthesizer and see the trays and utensils clean after the evening meal—Kreia was sitting on her bunk, facing her with lips firm and arms folded.

"Ah." Darden said. "Am I in trouble?"

"You have befriended the seer."

"Visas needs a friend," Darden replied. "You call her a Seer because of how she sees?"

"Perceiving the galaxy through the Force is a rare gift, squandered on her people," Kreia said bitterly. "The Sith carry the battle to you, and you spare them. And as we travel, the empty spaces of this ship are filled. I hope your thoughts on this matter are clear. If you take her on as a servant, know that the Sith meet their end at the hands of their apprentices. It is not something I would wish to happen to you. This one you have saved has other masters. Though blind, she has ties to darkness. Her presence here is a threat to us. To you. Do not underestimate her…or her loyalty."

Darden shook her head, angry. "Don't trust them, don't trust them, don't trust them!" she cried. "That's all I get from you. Don't trust Atton—he's a fool and his thoughts are slippery. Don't trust the Handmaiden—she serves Atris and won't forget it. Don't trust Visas—she might be loyal to the 'Master' that destroyed her world and has given her every scar on her body. You didn't see it, Kreia! You didn't talk to her! If there's anyone on board this ship I don't trust, it's you."

Kreia's mouth quirked up. "Then you are learning," she said quietly.

Darden subsided and sat down with a sigh across from Kreia. "Visas told me how her planet was destroyed. Atton said it was the only colony of her people in this sector of the galaxy."

"Did he?" Kreia said, with that contemptuous curl of the lip she only ever used when Darden mentioned Atton. Darden fought back her annoyance. "And what do you make of that?"

"Her people see through the Force. She's damaged, but she still sensed me across the galaxy, was able to track me to Dxun. A whole world of undamaged people like that—it occurs to me that the Sith wouldn't want that much clear sight around when they're trying to move in shadow."

Kreia nodded, pleased. "The Mandalorians were right to respect you on the field of battle," she told Darden, a rare compliment. "The Jedi are gone, vanished, and now an entire planet of Force Sensitives has been wiped clean of life. Now this slice of the galaxy is blind. It is no coincidence; the two events are tied."

Darden tapped her fingers on her knee thoughtfully. "You're saying Visas' Master—maybe all the Sith—want this sector of the galaxy blind to the Force. So they can move freely…or strike without warning."

Kreia inclined her head. "I fear it is so. And I fear it may prove more than that. War is hunger. And there are spirits in the galaxy whose hunger is never satisfied. But there is little to be done about it now. Watch the seer carefully—she may reveal more."

Darden hesitated, then asked, "Can we talk about her Master now? He is the one, isn't he? Not Sion, but the one who's consumed by hunger?"

Kreia's lips tightened and her face beneath her hood paled. "Yes," she said. "He…If he can truly be called a man any longer, he is one of the Dark Lords that pursues you. I do not think he knows what you are. Not yet. He spared the Miraluka, and that may have been the last shred of feeling that existed within him. Keep his slave close to you. I suspect there was a reason he spared her…and perhaps a reason that she survived when the rest of her people and the Jedi did not."

"The Jedi?" Darden asked, thoroughly taken aback.

"Yes, did she not tell you? Or did you not ask why he acted when he did, and not at any other time? The Jedi went to Katarr, hoping that among the Miraluka they could shed light upon the darkness that assailed them. But any gathering of Jedi _he_ cannot for long. They found the darkness they sought. He came, and the Jedi were destroyed, and Katarr was destroyed." Kreia said.

Darden was silent, realizing for the first time why Kreia might be afraid of this Sith Lord, why Visas insisted she be ready before she even tried to find him. "Why did he spare her?" she asked.

Kreia shrugged. "Perhaps he is bound to her as I am bound to you. If so, there may be a death served by hers. You must be prepared to sacrifice the blinded one. Perhaps her death will buy you the time you need to deal with her Master."

Darden almost snapped back at Kreia, but she wanted information, not a lecture upon her weakness, so she sidestepped the instruction entirely and said instead, "Katarr was destroyed. Visas could tell me how it was _not_ done, but not how. Can you tell me more?"

"It is a technique that is almost as old as the Sith themselves," Kreia said. "A means of severing connections between life, the Force, and feeding on the death it causes. It cannot be taught…it can only be gained through instinct, through experiencing its effects, firsthand."

"He used it to kill an entire planet," Darden said, staring off into the distance and twisting the sheets of her bunk in her hands.

"Yes, and fed upon its destruction. It will sustain him, for a time."

"And through acting like this; exercising this power and living only to hunger, her Master has ceased to be a man?"

"One cannot have the power of that magnitude that her Master possesses and still think and perceive the universe as we do," Kreia replied. "I had hoped that you would not have to confront him, but her presence here has changed all of that. You will have to meet him in battle."

Darden frowned. "Battle—Visas showed me how she sees, but she can do more than that. She can actually affect the perceptions of others. When she attacked, for a while, I was blinded."

Kreia snorted. "And yet you triumphed. There are other ways of perceiving the galaxy than through crude matter. Other ways of seeing—and other ways of hearing. Close your eyes."

Darden knew a lesson when she heard one. And far be it from her to neglect an opportunity to learn. She closed her eyes.

"Feel this ship around you. The welding of the droid as it goes about its work."

Darden felt out with the Force, sensed Teethree as she had taught Bao-Dur to do the day before yesterday. She frowned. "Oh—I should repair him—one of his motivators—"

"Shh. Now stretch out. Hear the rumble of hyperspace, the hum of the hyperdrive."

Darden still felt Teethree, but felt around him, too, and there was a catch in the hyperdrive. She started to tell Kreia, but of course, her teacher already knew.

Kreia cut her off. "Ignore distractions. Focus on my voice. The breathing of the blinded one as she meditates in the dark. Now listen deeper. Past her breathing, and listen."

What Kreia wanted Darden to do was different than what she'd done earlier. Kreia wasn't asking her to perceive Visas, to see her, but to listen. Darden did. She listened past Visas' presence, and she heard.

_As my feet walk from the ashes of Katarr, I shall not fear, for in fear, lies death, and…_

Darden's eyes flew open and she retreated inside her mind like lightning. "I heard her thoughts," she said. "I didn't just sense her emotions, didn't just feel her presence, or talk to her mind to mind with mutual permission I—"

"You are strong indeed," Kreia said. "What you heard were surface thoughts only, but it is something that Masters have trained for years and never learned."

"How—I wasn't—"

"Such listening is not enough to perceive the world around you. Cease your worrying," Kreia said. "To listen to the thoughts of another is much like attempting to see the universe only with your eyes. It is equally limiting."

"But you—you listen this way all the time, don't you?" Darden said, suddenly feeling a wave of foreboding. She masked it, though. She looked straight at Kreia. "Teach me more."

Kreia's mouth quirked. She was pleased. "Very well," she said. "So you have brushed the thoughts of another. It is a start. Calm yourself. Silence your own thoughts. Keep them still."

Darden closed her eyes again and struggled to do as her teacher said.

"Imagine the waters in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, each stream suddenly falling silent and still. Imagine the ice of Telos, cold and smooth, as it gathers upon the plateau."

With effort, Darden was able to calm her mind and still her emotions.

"Now stretch out, feel the ship around you. Strip away the metal, and see the souls and minds of those that fill its corridors, with more thoughts and dreams and worries than can fill the space of this ship."

Darden, feeling out with the Force, sensed Visas first. She'd spent a lot of time with the Miraluka today. She had a feel for the woman's spirit.

_As my feet walk the ashes of Katarr, I shall not fear, for in fear, lies death, and…_

Darden sensed another voice, worried, but calculating. _If I upped the tibanna gas levels in the carbine that would be enough to punch a hole even in triple-durasteel, and we'll need weapons like that if the Republic discovers the camp on Dxun…_

In the cargo hold Darden heard an elevated heart rate pumping blood to limbs still kicking and punching, going through endless, endless drills. _If Father had had her strength, would he be here today? If he had had her conviction? Does his shame, his weakness echo in me now, is that what I feel when fight with her, for her? I must train…_

And another, from the cockpit_…switch the face of the +1/-1 card, the totals are nine-ten. Switch the face of the +2/-2 card the total is eight-eleven. Switch…_

Darden frowned, wanted to pursue that voice, figure out what it was doing, but a mind touched hers, recognizing her presence. _Your command echoes still, General. And I obey, as I did at Malachor. _

"Now," Kreia murmured. "Focus on _my_ voice."

Bao-Dur pulled at her, but Darden did. _"Now. Do you hear me? Truly hear me?" _

All her thoughts were focused on Darden, on teaching her. At least these surface ones. _"I…I do. This is—"_Darden opened her eyes and cut off the connection. _Frightening, invasive_, she thought, maintaining the wall between herself and Kreia.

"You have taken the first steps down a much longer road," Kreia murmured.

Darden frowned. "Only—what about Teethree? I heard him before."

"You sensed his presence, heard him moving," Kreia corrected. "The droid cannot be read in such a way—as for the alien that served with you in the war, its thoughts are more difficult, requiring many translations in meaning. Often it is better to read their impulses and images than their spoken thoughts. That is why he is deaf to you. I have found his impulses are dead—like a cold weight. His thoughts are black."

Darden blinked. "They aren't," she said, without thinking. "In fact, he was the only one that—"

She broke off, reluctant to betray her student. If Kreia couldn't read him…

"You heard something from him? It is strange that I did not." Kreia's voice was sharp. She was staring at Darden from beneath her hood, searching. Darden could feel her probing at the wall between their minds, knew she could not withstand the pressure, so she let it down.

"I served with him," she said, and thought, carefully. "We went through Malachor together. And—I am training him, and when I speak of him, I use his name."

"Perhaps," Kreia said, scowling. "I would not put much weight on such things."

Darden hesitated, but then said, "I did hear Bao-Dur, and he heard me, but that wasn't what was really weird. Atton—"

Kreia smiled. "Ah, yes. You noticed. Atton is not playing pazaak, yet he counts cards in his head. At times, he will list off engine sequencers, memorize the hyperspace routes on the other side of the galaxy, count the ticking in the power couplings even though they are fixed." She dropped her voice and frowned. "At other times…he will imagine certain…base lusts, certain indignities. It may be that Atton is far cleverer than he feigns to be. Or perhaps he is simply a fool."

Darden lay back. _His thoughts are slippery_, Kreia had said, when she'd first sensed Atton. Bao-Dur—she didn't understand him—but Atton could hold her off. At least, that's what it seemed like. Darden rolled over, away from Kreia. She closed her eyes and felt out again. She ignored Kreia, ignored Bao-Dur, swept past Visas and Mandalore and the Handmaiden and focused upon listening to the 'voice' that was Atton. She focused so hard she could _see _the pazaak cards in his head.

Then, out of nowhere, the image changed. She saw herself, pinned to the wall of the _Ebon Hawk_ cockpit by two arms she recognized as Atton's. She was completely naked, lips parted, looking at Atton with an entirely alien expression. Longing, desire, heat. Darden saw what Atton saw himself doing to her, saw how he saw her responding. She heard his heart rate go up, felt his lust.

All this took place in a split second. Darden withdrew from Atton's mind so fast she felt sick when she opened her eyes. Kreia had shut the light off in the dormitory. It was dark. Darden's heart pounded and her stomach flipped. She moved to kick off the sheet, to dispel the heat, but she wasn't using it. Kreia had warned her, but she hadn't ever imagined it would be like _that_. There was a huge difference between a word, a look and—and seeing, hearing, _feeling_ what Atton wanted from her. She wouldn't forget it. She couldn't. She didn't know if she'd ever be able to look at him in the same way again.

Darden lay awake in the dark, and she heard Kreia's breathing deepen as she fell asleep. Outside the dormitory the ship went dark as the rest of the crew went to sleep, too. But the hours passed, and Darden didn't sleep. She couldn't.

* * *

7 DAYS LATER

Darden had been thinking, and a week after Kreia had taught her to listen, after she had heard Atton's thoughts—both strange and frightening—she had decided at last to talk to him about it.

She was playing a dangerous game with everyone on the ship, with the entire galaxy. The Handmaiden was spying for Atris. Visas was a Sith with a Sith Lord Master intent on Darden's destruction, and the destruction of life everywhere. Helping Mandalore helped the Mandalorians, and if it wouldn't help them conquer the Republic or burn worlds again, it definitely could cause problems. Bao-Dur—who knew if she could train him well, that she wasn't hurting him by trying? And Kreia had an agenda—quite possibly a Sith agenda. She read thoughts without apology and asked Darden to use others without thought to anyone's wellbeing but her own.

With Atton it was the same game. Why was he with her? Who had he been? Where had he received his Echani training and to what purpose had it been used? Was he more help or danger? But it was a different game, too. Darden knew war and risks and strategy and allies through and through. But she didn't know men. She didn't know sex. She didn't understand what he wanted, and she didn't understand how it made her feel, and _that_ scared her half to death.

Hiding from it wouldn't get her anywhere, though. Cowardice weakened a person. Facing fears gave them strength. Darden didn't agree with Kreia about a lot of things, but she agreed with that. And she thought maybe Atton could help her.

The last seven days she'd thought about it, looked at it every which way. But there was nothing for it. She didn't know how to sever her bond with Kreia, didn't know how to become something Kreia couldn't understand, like a droid, or Bao-Dur. Yet Kreia's insight into her mind was an advantage she didn't want the old woman to have, or any Force-wielder. And whether he knew it or not, Atton's pazaak playing kept Kreia off balance.

So today she steeled her nerves and swallowed and walked up to the cockpit. He was there, feet up on the instrument's panel, staring into hyperspace.

"Hello, stranger," he said.

Darden stared at him, standing behind the pilot's chair. When it came out, it was all in a rush. "Why do you play pazaak in your head?"

She saw his shoulders tense, felt the temperature of the room drop. But he answered. "Passes the time. It's better than listing off engine sequencers, memorizing hyperspace routes, or counting ticks in the power couplings."

"There are no ticks in the power couplings," Darden said. "They're fixed."

He took his feet down and turned so his chair was facing her. He looked at her and held her gaze for a long moment. "Of course it's fixed," he said slowly, deliberately. "And that's why you should count the ticking in the power coupling, too."

So it _was_ on purpose. Darden breathed in deeply and sat down in the co-pilot's chair. "You don't trust her, either," she whispered.

Atton's eyes flicked to the door, and he shook his head. "Look. I'll show you. Let's play pazaak."

"Republic senate rules?" Darden asked, fishing her side deck out from under the seat. Atton was the only one on board the _Ebon_ _Hawk _that would play with her.

He nodded, and dealt. They played, and though Darden took an early lead, he outwaited her, outlasted her, and came back and won decisively. Again.

Darden sighed and shook her head, but Atton smiled. "It was a good match. Now. What are you thinking about? Right now."

"I'm thinking about pazaak, and how if we ever played for credits I'd owe you several hundred."

"Right. Just that," Atton said. "And that's why I play pazaak in my head. Because if you don't, you've left the door open. And anyone could walk right in."

Darden bit her lip. "Atton—I walked in. With Kreia's help. Or I tried. At first, it was just pazaak, but then—"she swallowed and lowered her gaze. "I'm sorry."

He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. "Didn't like what you saw, did you, sweetheart? You see Jedi, light or dark, do it, more often than you'd think. But I never heard one say they were sorry before. That's a new house rule."

"Agreed," Darden said quickly. "But—the pazaak. Counting ticks in the power couplings. Hyperspace routes. Even—the other stuff, maybe? You do it to shield your thoughts?"

Atton sat forward. "No," he said clearly. "I play pazaak in my head. But while I'm doing that, it's a lot harder for someone to walk in."

"Can you teach me?" Darden asked. "I think it'd be useful to—"

He cut her off. "No. I can only teach you to play pazaak. Do you understand what I'm saying, sweetheart?"

Darden blinked. He'd been trained. He had to have been. He was saying that the minute you start thinking about shielding your thoughts, you're not doing it anymore, and a Jedi can read you. But how could he know that? She nodded. "I understand. Teach me to play pazaak."

"Good," he said, nodding. "Now you understand. All right. I'll deal, then."

But he didn't shuffle the cards. Instead, he started talking her through a game. Draw a 5, the opponent draws 6. Draw 2, total 7. Counting cards on both sides. Pazaak, stand, bust. Double-face cards and both totals. Keeping track of the numbers required all her concentration. She focused on her "hand", which she could build herself, so long as she remembered what cards she'd played already. And as they talked, as they played pazaak, Atton looked at her across the aisle, willing her to get it, to use what he was teaching her to defend herself with a focus she hadn't ever attributed to him.

His will was strong. Perhaps the strongest she'd ever encountered. He won the game again, though this time just barely. And after it was done he was quiet a long time. Darden was sitting on the edge of her seat, fascinated.

"If you're ever fighting someone who has power over your mind," he said at last, "Whether light or dark…play pazaak. Start listing hyperspace routes. Recite engine sequencers. And when they try to use their powers on you, suddenly it's not as easy as they thought. Because you'll be right here with me, playing pazaak, where they can't reach you."

The words, but more than that the tone he said them in and the way he was looking at her made something click. Darden had wanted to know coming here today what Atton wanted from her, wanted to face up to what she'd seen in his head. Looking at him now, she thought she was catching a glimpse of it, starting to know him, really know him for the first time. And what she saw scared her worse than what she'd seen a week ago. She shivered. But she held his gaze, and she picked up a card off her side deck and flipped it over. +5.

"You win almost every time," she said, trying to talk normally. But her voice was shaking, too. "You're usually so good at it. Pazaak. But it's a bluff, Atton. You're always bluffing. Then you don't get hurt, and I'm uncomfortable, but I'm not scared." Her voice dropped to a whisper. She couldn't help it. "You're slipping. I'm scared."

Atton's eyes darkened. His pupils dilated and he leaned forward. "Why?" he asked. His voice was as low as hers.

Darden took a shuddering breath. Her face was heating up—she wanted to look away from him—to run, but she couldn't. She stayed. "Because—because—I don't know."

Atton smiled bitterly. In a slow, controlled movement, he took the +5 pazaak card from where she held it on her lap, only just brushing her leg with the tips of his fingers, and he put it down underneath the seat with the rest of her side deck. "Then don't call me on my bluff just yet, sweetheart," he said, turning away. "Not until and unless you want to raise the stakes and really play."

Darden shivered again. She stood and turned too quickly, banging her knee on the chair. She started to go, ignoring the pain, but before she'd left, she stopped. Turned. She bit her lip. Swallowed. "Atton?" she said. "Someday I might."

Then she fled.

* * *

**A/N: So that's it. I've got most of the next chapter written, but I also have an essay for school and work stuff, so I probably won't finish it until this weekend at the earliest. I actually really like this chapter. Very interesting conversations, and they're not entirely game-dialogue, either. **

**Darden's most interesting when seen with Kreia or Atton, I've found. Either holding back, watching and waiting and distrusting with Kreia. Or squirming because she hasn't encountered feelings in a man like those Atton has for her in at least ten years, and probably never felt anything like them herself. With Kreia, she understands herself perfectly. With Atton, not at all. It's a fascinating duality in her character that I enjoy writing.**

**I hope you're enjoying reading it. **

**Reviews are always nice.**

**May the Force Be With You,  
LMSharp **


	18. Owners of the Ebon Hawk

**Disclaimer: Negatory on the claiming.**

* * *

XVII.

Owners of the _Ebon Hawk_

Two weeks after leaving Onderon, the _Ebon Hawk _came out of hyperspace above Nar Shaddaa. Even in orbit, Darden could feel the life emanating from the moon. Ships flew around it in droves, like so many angry hive insects.

Darden was up in the cockpit with Atton, trying to decide how to approach the two massive problems facing her on this moon of a few billion people. Mandalore was up with them. He had his own challenges to face on this world.

"Well, here we are," Atton said, looking over the place. "The Smuggler's Moon. It's the gaping maw of Nal Hutta, swallowing all the cargo and space port thugs the galaxy has to offer. Mandalorians, mercenaries, war veterans, and pilots from the Mandalorian Wars and the Jedi Civil War ended up on Nar Shaddaa, from all sides of the conflict. When the last war ended, there was no place left for them to go."

"Too many Mandalorians were scattered after the war," Mandalore observed. "Without purpose and without direction, most became little more than raiders. I hope to find some of my people here."

"It won't be easy," Atton told him. "I mean, easier than finding that Zocam Eye guy—"

"Zez-Kai Ell," Darden said without heat. He liked to get it wrong to annoy her.

"—he's just one in about three billion. There ought to be several Mandalorians here, but still. There's so much traffic on this moon that finding anyone on the surface is going to be hard. Nar Shaddaa's easy to get lost in. " Atton continued. He looked over at Darden. "Or for someone to get lost. We could probably hide out here a few months. Keep out of sight of the Sith. You couldn't pick a better spot."

Darden looked down at the moon and drew her feet up into her chair. She wrapped her arms around her knees. "So. A lot of soldiers here, huh?"

"Yeah," Atton said, looking pensive. "Some came looking for work running freight and cargo. Still there's only so many ships to go around and so many workers. So others lend their weapons to the Hutts and the Exchange. It's become a prime base for raider recruitment across the galaxy. We're going to touch down in the Refugee Sector," he added, speaking to both Darden and Mandalore now. "There's a lot more traffic there, and it's harder for people to spot you coming in…or find you once you arrive."

"Are we going to spend the entire time here hiding?" Mandalore wanted to know.

Darden shook her head. "We won't be able to. If we're going to find the people we need to here, we're going to have to make some noise. Still. It's a good idea to keep the ship hidden, at least." She nodded at Atton. "Take us in."

"We should touch down within the hour. Once we're down, we should finally be able to breathe easy," he said. "There's no way anyone's going to find us here."

The entire crew was out on the landing pad next hour, looking around at the towering skyscrapers and gaping chasms that made up the Smuggler's Moon. The landing pad was deserted and neglected, but ships filled the sky, going every which way. A smell of unwashed bodies and trash filled the air. The Handmaiden wrinkled her nose.

Atton winked at the Echani girl, and she scowled. He threw his arms open then, and declared, "Ah, the beautiful stench and decay of desperate living."

Kreia was uneasy. "This moon…it teems with life. It is difficult to center oneself," she said.

Visas was frowning. "Never have I been to a place so alive with the Force, yet so dead to it," she observed. "The contrast is like a blade."

Atton shrugged. "Welcome to Nar Shaddaa: towering buildings kilometers high and miles deep, with canyons so wide you could have a dogfight in them. Word of warning—watch where you step, or you'll fall for hours."

Darden was looking around at the landing pad. There was nothing all around, no hangar, no bay to prevent the _Ebon Hawk_ from being seen by all and sundry. And on a world so full of traffic, she imagined landing space was a commodity. "Are we going to be okay on this landing pad?" she asked.

"Sure, most of the landing pads around here are unclaimed," Atton assured her. "Or should be. They're pretty badly maintained, so they're not safe to land on." He hesitated, and the tips of his ears reddened, then he hastily added, "Well, I mean, not this one, but they all have the reputation, so we should be all right. I think."

Darden looked pointedly at the lights around the pad. Several were out, and she could see more than one rust patch. "Thanks so much," she said drily. "The ship just seems a little exposed here, is all."

"We are very vulnerable to attack on this pad," the Handmaiden agreed.

"Maybe a little," conceded Atton, "But landing here means we didn't have to transmit our ID signature, and you know the trouble that caused on Onderon. In fact, while we're here, we should get those signatures changed. Would make it so we're not such a target when we enter a new system."

Darden regarded him, a little impressed. He'd thought this through. "That's a good idea," she said.

"Were there any problems with the docking authorities?" Bao-Dur asked. "If trouble's coming, I'd just as soon know it now."

"No," Atton said, grinning, "But I forgot to tell them we were landing. The Refugee Sector's a dead zone. No one cares too much who flies in and out of here as long as they're not carrying cargo that the Exchange or the Hutts might want a piece of."

Darden nodded. "Fine. Then let's go."

"All right, sure," Atton said. "Uh…where are we headed, exactly?"

"It does not matter where we go," Kreia said. "If what we seek is here, we shall come upon it in due time."

Atton looked at Kreia with disgust. "Uh…yeah. If you want to stay on the ship and meditate some more, don't let us stop you."

Darden looked Kreia over. In the long, plain brown robe with the deep hood she practically screamed 'Jedi', or at least mysterious. "Unless you change clothes, Kreia, you'll attract attention just as much as if you went naked."

"Er—more, actually," said Atton, with something halfway between a grimace and a smile. The Handmaiden wrinkled her nose again.

"It's probably a good idea if you do stay here," Darden said to Kreia. Her teacher frowned, but then gave a frosty bow of acknowledgment. Darden turned to look at the rest of her companions. "I guess the rest of you can go where you want," she said. "Just—keep a weapon, try _not_ to keep credits, and stay in groups of at least two—but not too big, or you'll look like a crew a gang of thugs might want to take down for credits or gear." She paused. She sounded like someone's mother. "Just—use your common sense. This is a rough place."

"You aren't going off alone, are you, General?" Bao-Dur asked.

Darden laughed. "Force, no. Atton—you seem to have knowledge of the area. You want to come with me? And, uh—Mandalore and the Handmaiden, too. If you want."

"I'd be happy to show you around, sweetheart, but what are we doing?" Atton asked.

Darden swallowed. "Well—I said the only way we're going to find anyone is if we make some noise. So I figure—we're going to make some noise." She braced herself for the protest.

"Uh-huh," Mandalore said, sounding amused. "And you want me and the Handmaiden along in case things get ugly."

"I'm hoping they won't," Darden added hastily. "The trick will be to make noise without letting anyone find out where we're coming from. But I want to find out about that bounty and Goto."

Atton was looking as unenthusiastic as she'd feared. She had known he wouldn't be a fan of the plan. "Well. That means either finding a bounty hunter, a ranking member of the Exchange, or someone willing to talk—none of which are too appealing. Bounty hunters and the Exchange are going to want to shoot you, and someone who is willing to talk is willing to talk to anyone, which means trouble. It'd be a better idea to just lay low."

"The bounty is a waste of your efforts," Kreia said, crossing her arms and glaring from beneath her hood. "All that matters is the Jedi—the intentions of the thugs of this moon are of no consequence."

Darden was grateful to the old woman for her disapproval for maybe the first time ever, because Atton straightened up and glared over his shoulder at Kreia. "It's up to you," he told Darden. "There's bound to be someone in the sector willing to spill their guts for a credit or two."

"Then let's find them," Darden said. She started walking, but then turned. "Kreia—it's not just the bounty, okay? I figure the only way we're going to find Zez-Kai Ell, if he's here at all, is to make noise. It's a shoot two iriaz with one bolt kind of thing."

Kreia regarded her, but didn't say anything.

Atton was checking his blaster. Appearing satisfied, he holstered it again. "If you have any questions, just ask. We should be able to leave the ship here as long as we want. No one supervises these landing pads anymore."

"Hey! You! You there!" yelled an angry voice from the door into the sector. Darden turned and saw an albino Trandashion flying towards her. He was dressed in a uniform with a nametag that read 'Quello'.

"Uh-oh," Atton muttered. Darden glared at him, then stepped forward to the Trandashion and pasted a fake smile on her face.

"What's with you, letting that piece of junk sink its struts into my landing pad?" Quello demanded.

Darden thought rapidly. It was a fifty-fifty chance, and so she said, "The Exchange doesn't think my ship is a piece of junk. They said I could land here." If this was Hutt territory she was done for.

But Quello flew back a few feet. "Yeah?" he said, in a rather different tone. "Well this is the first I've heard of it. Tell you what, let me check it out—if you're cleared, then you're clear, no trouble."

Darden raised an eyebrow and looked down her nose at the Trandashion. "Go ahead and check it out, then," she said smoothly, in fact hoping he did nothing of the sort. "I'll be sure to tell my boss who delayed me when I'm late making my drop—Quello, is it?"

Quello backed up another foot. "Hmm. Ah, never mind. It's not worth the trouble. I gotta tell you, though, I got another one of your ships set to dock here soon—could be an hour, could be a couple days… if you're not out of here by then I'm not sure what to tell them."

Darden shrugged. "Just divert them to another landing pad. There are plenty of empty ones."

Quello looked uncertain, but he nodded and flew away. Darden smiled until he was out of sight, then rounded on Atton. "No one supervises the landing pads, huh?"

"Yeah, well…"

Darden laughed at him. "Spacebrain." She looked over back at the _Hawk. _Bao-Dur and Visas were talking quietly—Visas had been sitting in on his training sessions this last week, and they were friendly. She thought they might go off to explore together. Teethree and Kreia had gone back into the ship. Mandalore was just coming out, bearing his repeating blaster rifle and his pack.

"You're coming?"

"It's likely that we'll run into Mandalorians to join the cause," Mandalore said. "And even if we don't, there'll probably be a good fight. I'm coming."

Darden turned to the Handmaiden. But she was looking at Atton and Darden with a very odd expression. "I—I do not think I will accompany you," she said. "Not this time. Though the Mandalorian has some purpose accompanying you, I would not wish to—that is, I need to train."

Darden looked at the girl, a bit puzzled. Then she shrugged. "Suit yourself. See you later. Ward off anybody that tries to steal this landing pad no one cares about, will you?"

"Ah, really, Darden? Are you going to keep on about that?" Atton asked, falling into step as Darden started for the door.

Darden looked over at him, shrugged. Then she smiled.

* * *

ATTON

Atton was starting to think Darden didn't know how to do subtle. Sure, her whole plan was to attract enough attention that someone would start talking, or come find her, but he would be amazed if they made it three days going like she was without someone killing them.

It had been three hours since the spaceport, and she had already found the local swoop track and arranged for a change in management, bought lightsaber crystals from two different vendors (and another part for that broken HK unit on the ship) in the full sight of the entire populace, and stopped groups of Exchange thugs from beating up two different people.

The last was totally asking for it, too. He had actually tried to pin his debt on them and make a break for it. But of course their great Jedi leader didn't tell the thugs the guy was lying and leave 'em to it, or pretend not to hear, or even beat them all up and get out of there. No. She claimed the cheat was under her protection and activated her lightsaber and sent the cowards packing, then she let the miserable man go.

She deactivated her lightsaber after they were all gone, smiling to herself slightly. Atton shook his head. "It's a good thing the bounty hunters have a truce on-world, sweetheart. You couldn't get any more obvious if you tattooed Jedi across your forehead."

"That's the idea," Darden told him. "Besides, he wasn't worth killing, and neither were they. I could help him, and the others. I've tried to help where I can, since Malachor."

"We shouldn't waste our time with the weak," Mandalore said disapprovingly.

"I don't know about that," Atton said, "But there are a lot of people who need help in the galaxy. If we stop to help each one, the Sith are going to be on us faster than anything. Let's just—do what we have to do first—then worry about everyone else."

Not that he was happy about what she'd decided to do. He was already on the lookout for tails. According to an ex-bounty hunter they'd run into back by the _Hawk, _the people looking to cash in on Goto's bounty had a truce so long as Darden was on-world. They wouldn't attack her, or each other. But the guy had also said that the bounty hunters these days weren't big on keeping their word. He'd hoped that they could lie low a while here. A couple months maybe. He'd have kept Darden safe. The others, too, even, since they were important to her. But it was looking like the only way he could keep her safe was to tie her up himself, she was so set on being stupid.

She knew it, too. She was grimacing at him. "Yeah, when we've done what we have to, Atton, we may not have time to worry about everyone else, we'll be running so fast. Or…y'know, dead. I've learned to just take these moments when they come."

He stared at her. Maybe he ought to make a will or something. Except he didn't really have anything important, or anyone to leave it to. She was definitely going to get him killed. He could slip away, he supposed. It wouldn't be too hard, here. Just take off in the middle of the night and leave Darden Leona to the Sith and her suicidal impossible quests. She wouldn't be able to find him. Probably wouldn't even look. And the old woman—she was off balance here. He could avoid that old witch easy enough. He could go all the way across the moon and find some excitement more to his taste. Play pazaak with real opponents. Get drunk. Find women better looking than this crazy exiled Jedi, and certainly easier. Might be stuck here a few months, but he'd bounce back eventually. He always did.

Darden was walking again and Atton followed her and Mandalore, cursing himself for an idiot because he wouldn't do it. He probably wouldn't even take a couple days off to get off. Wouldn't like to look Darden in the face afterwards, though he didn't know why he should owe her anything. He hadn't made any promises to wait around until she thawed out a couple hundred degrees. She hadn't actually promised that she would. But that maybe set in the indefinite future held him like a chain, anyway. And even if her maybe turned into a maybe _not_—Atton felt like kicking something. Sometimes he could almost think he—but he never let himself go far enough down that road to actually think the word—and when he starting thinking like that, he was sure that the Handmaiden and Kreia were right when they called him a fool.

She led them to the refugee docks next. Here she actually didn't make a lot of trouble. She sniffed around the flophouse near there and did some work for the Trandashian in charge of the pylons. Mandalore found some of his Mandalorians and went off for a drink with them to talk them into leaving Nar Shaddaa, and Atton and Darden had a bit of a firefight with some rogue droid and came back to the flophouse to find a Bith murdered, apparently by another droid that had suddenly gone insane.

But she didn't make a lot of noise. Didn't do anything too outrageous, until she'd finished the job for Fassa on the docks and he told her a little about Vogga the Hutt's trouble with Goto. Apparently this Goto, the same Exchange boss that had taken out the bounty on Darden, had been hijacking Vogga's fuel freighters. No one knew how, but it had gotten so bad that Vogga had stopped his fuel transportation, and reserves were building up on Sleheyron.

Atton saw the moment she thought of it. Her jaw tightened, but her mouth turned up, and her eyes glinted. She took Fassa's reward, and started marching straight across the docks to where Vogga kept office. Atton groaned. There she went. For real this time.

* * *

DARDEN

Vogga the Hutt wasn't exactly pleased that Darden had charged into his office—well, really it was more like a lounge—without an appointment. He glared at her from enormous, sick looking red eyes.

/Why do you defile my space, human?/ he demanded. His pet kath hounds, on either side of his couch, began to growl at his peevish tone. /You are irritating my kath hounds…and me. Speak!/

"I'm here because I hear you have problems with Goto," Darden said. "Tell me about it."

Atton, beside her, winced at her boldness. Vogga's slug tail thrashed and he waved his arms. /The infuriating one, Goto, he is the one I wish to see lying in a pool of blood in front of me…or with his knee bent!/ he croaked in his native Huttese.

"Yeah. He's making trouble for your freighters?" Darden said. She infused her voice with confidence.

/I do not know how he manages it, but he preys upon my freighters,/ Vogga told her. /Entire shipments of fuel from Sleheyron have been hijacked by his minions. Because of this, I have been forced to cease my trading operations, which has proven quite annoying./

Darden drew herself up, heart racing. This was it. "And built up stores of fuel on Sleheyron," she said meaningfully. "Citadel Station is looking for a new fuel supplier."

/This I know,/ Vogga said. /My fuel would fetch a pretty price there, but not a drop will leave here until Goto is dealt with./

"But if I take care of Goto, you'll ship fuel there?" Darden said.

The Hutt focused. /What, and you would do this out of the kindness of your heart? What is your price?/

Darden shrugged. "Goto is annoying me, too, okay? But if I take care of him for you, you have to give Telos a fair deal. That's my price."

Vogga stared at her for a moment, then he started laughing. /I like you,/ he declared suddenly. /You aren't half bad for a human. I only make fair deals. But this is getting ahead of ourselves, whoever you are. First, Goto must be dealt with, or the stores of Sleheyron will remain on Sleheyron./

Darden bowed.

/Was there something else?/ Vogga asked. /Otherwise, see yourself to the door./

"There's nothing else," Darden replied, and did. The kath hounds barked behind her.

"Well," Atton said after a moment. "Your student ought to be happy about that little deal anyway. Did you have to declare war on Goto and make a bargain a Hutt?"

Darden shook her head. "Goto declared war on me. As for the other: Citadel Station needs fuel and Vogga the Hutt has it. If I somehow manage to take out Goto, he'll honor our deal and charge a fair price, at least for a while. It's a new market, and he'll want to capitalize on it so Citadel Station doesn't find another source. He'll also be able to sell to his other buyers, and he'll remember that business with Citadel Station for less than outrageously exorbitant prices is still better than no business at all." She paused. "And if he doesn't, I'll come back here and remind him how I took out Goto when he couldn't, and that I could do the same to him."

"You haven't taken out Goto yet, sweetheart," Atton pointed out.

"No," Darden conceded. "But I will. Somehow."

Atton snorted. "Yeah, okay. Whatever you say. Look—how about we head to the cantina to look for Mandalore? Or we could grab dinner and a drink, just you and me. A last meal before you get us all killed."

They were leaving the docks now. Darden raised an eyebrow at him. His face was very carefully casual. She considered. "Yeah, all right," she said finally.

He blinked, surprised, but recovered quickly. "Right this way, then."

When they got to the neon-lit entertainment promenade section off the Refugee Sector Square, they actually met Mandalore coming out, shaking hands with the Mandalorian clan leaders they'd met in the flophouse.

"I was just about to head back to the ship," he said.

"We were going to look for you," Darden said. "How'd it go?"

"I convinced them to pack up and head for Dxun," Mandalore said. "They weren't too excited about enforcing here anyway, and when I offered them a chance to reunite the clans and help restore our people to glory, they couldn't refuse."

"But you're not going with them in their ship to look for more of your people," Darden said.

"You still need an extra blaster," he replied.

"Yeah, you can say that again," Atton said. "She's saying she's going to take down Goto now. The crime lord."

"Impressive," Mandalore said, looking at Darden. "I'll enjoy watching you try to back that up, Leona."

Darden smiled ruefully. "Yeah, so it's a big challenge. But if I can take care of him, things will be considerably easier for us after. But you're right; I really could use your help."

"But not right now," Atton said hastily. "I mean, you've already eaten, right? Darden and I haven't. You should go ahead and go back to the _Ebon Hawk_. We'll catch up with you later."

Darden felt Mandalore's attention sharpen, a wave of amusement, tinged somehow with foreboding, but he didn't have a chance to say something, because a man turned around.

"Wait—did you say the _Ebon Hawk_?"

He was a rough looking specimen—around fifty. His face was scarred and lined from hard living.

"Didn't think I was talking to you," Atton said.

"But that's my ship," the man said. "The name's Ratrin Vhek. I'd heard she landed today around here. I've been looking for the people flying her."

"Your ship?" Atton demanded, suddenly going tense. "I'd lay off the spice if I were you—that's our ship, not yours."

"I tell you, that ship's mine," Vhek insisted.

Darden stepped forward. "Can you prove it?" she asked.

"The _Ebon Hawk_ was stolen from me during a routine run in the Mid-Rim, near the close of the Mandalorian Wars," he said.

Darden thought rapidly and forced her face to remain blank, impassive. This could solve a problem, if she handled it right. "If you can prove the ship's yours, I'll give it back to you," she said.

Ratrin Vhek's eyes glittered. He'd been stuck here a while from the look of him, though maybe not ten years. "The registry's 34-P7JK," he said firmly. "It's got a temperamental hyperdrive, and the turrets can be sluggish and unresponsive against fast moving fighters. She's also got two secret compartments—one in the cargo hold, right near the plasteel cylinders in the back, and the second beneath the bunks in the starboard cabin."

Darden folded her arms, impressed. He probably had owned the _Hawk_ at one time. It almost made her sorry for what she was planning to do to him. "That's right," she said.

"Whoa—" Atton said. "He could've gotten that information some other way than owning the ship. C'mon, he's skifting us."

Darden caught a wave of displeasure from Mandalore, and knew he agreed with her pilot.

Ratrin Vhek squared his shoulders, though, and his hand dropped close to his blaster. "So you gonna hand it over now, or are you going to be difficult?" he demanded in a harsh tone. Darden could tell he wasn't as confident as he sounded. His eyes kept flitting to Darden's lightsaber and Mandalore's repeating blaster rifle.

"There won't be any need for unpleasantness," Darden said coolly. "If the ship is yours, I will return it to you."

"What?" Atton yelped. "It's our ship! I mean—"he trailed off. "—your ship. That I fly."

"Good to hear you aren't going to challenge it," Vhek said smugly. "That makes things a lot easier."

"That ship's had some proud owners," Mandalore spoke up suddenly, in a forbidding tone. "You're disgracing it by giving it away like a durasteel chip."

"What are you doing? That's going to trap us here!" Atton insisted.

But Darden merely nodded to Vhek. "We'll need a day or so to clear out our supplies and crew, of course. You can take possession tomorrow evening."

"I'll wait until tomorrow," Vhek said. "But not a day later. I'll be going now. Get used to solid ground beneath you."

He sauntered off, and Darden suddenly felt much less guilty about her plan.

"Lemme shoot him in the back," Atton growled. "No one has to know."

Darden shook her head. "Someone else will do it for us, Atton, Mandalore," she said quietly. "Don't waste the effort. And don't sweat it. All letting him take possession for a while will do is buy us some time. Owning the _Ebon Hawk_ is like painting a neon target on your forehead. It'll take him some time to get his affairs in order and buy supplies. Couple weeks, minimum. He's been here a while. When he starts blabbing about his recovered ship, the people after us will find him. Meanwhile, we can move freely."

Atton stared. But Mandalore laughed. "Nice one, Leona," he said. "A worthy stratagem. Let the moron die for his presumption. We shall use the time he buys us."

Darden turned to face the Mandalorian squarely. "I'd be interested, Mandalore, to hear exactly what Ratrin Vhek presumed to take possession of, and who those proud owners you speak of were. I'd be very interested to know exactly where you know my ship from and who you knew that owned it."

"Maybe one of these days I'll tell you," Mandalore said, unruffled. "You might be more interested than you think. I'll head back to the ship. The others ought to know we might have to clear out for a while." Without further ado he strode off.

Darden shook her head and watched him go. "Is that his angle then?" Atton wanted to know. "The ship? Really?"

"Yeah. He's helping because he needs to stop the Sith and find the Mandalorians, but more than that, because of the ship. I haven't figured out exactly where the _Ebon Hawk_ comes into it with Mandalore, but he knows something about it, alright." Darden watched the mysterious leader of the Mandalorians round the corner, then turned back to Atton. "So. Dinner?"

"Dinner," Atton agreed.

* * *

The cantina was actually kind of slow. The music was low-key, and there wasn't much going on. The pazaak players were a ways away in their own password-guarded den. There weren't even any dancers. The clientele was predominantly human, and Darden learned from the bartender that the real action was down in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr bar off the docks, but that was permeated with an atmosphere toxic to humans. In this cantina the scene was mostly small groups of humans, interspersed with the odd friendly alien or so, talking quietly, eating quietly, drinking responsibly, and just relaxing.

After five minutes in the cantina, Atton pronounced it boring, but when the food arrived it proved truly excellent, and he stopped fidgeting so much.

"So," he said after they'd both taken the edge off their hunger. "What did you do for fun, back before you left the Order?"

Darden laughed. "I was fighting a war. Not much fun in that, Atton. And before that I was just a kid in the Enclave. Back then—it depended on where we were. On Coruscant, sometimes we'd pick apart arguments that the Senate made. On Dantooine, if we could get away, we'd race speeders."

"Huh. For a boring planet, you had more fun on Dantooine." Atton observed.

"Less people," Darden said. "Less Jedi to watch us. 'Course, they'd always sense we'd snuck out, and then we'd have to listen to hours-long lectures about the responsibility of the Order and the symbols we carried and—"

"I don't need the details," Atton said hurriedly.

Darden grinned. "Neither did we."

"So who's we?" Atton wanted to know.

Darden looked down at her plate, suddenly very sad. "Who d'you think?" she asked. "They're all gone now, anyway." She looked up at him again. "A lot of them I ordered killed. Or Revan did."

"Well," he said, sounding a bit awkward. "What'd you do afterwards?"

Darden shrugged. "I drifted, didn't I? Planet to backwater planet, odd job after odd job. I got in fights, but more often I didn't. It reminded me too much of the war. I avoided people. Couldn't feel them, so they felt flat, two-dimensional. It put me off balance. Anyway, I didn't want to lose anyone else."  
She smiled at him, then. "Learned some stuff, though. How to play pazaak. How to drink. How to build a blaster or fix a ship's engine from scrap. I took some time to think. Some time to be really, really mad. Some time to cry. Some time to be sorry. Some time to wonder why I'd done what I'd done. And right about then the Republic showed up looking for the last of the Jedi and two months later I woke up on my underwear on Peragus."

Atton leaned back and smiled reminiscently. "Good times," he joked. "Still, it doesn't sound like much more fun than life as an Order-Jedi, exile." He raised an eyebrow. "Are you having fun now?"

Darden leaned back herself and folded her arms. "Atton. We have to date turned three planets completely upside-down. We're on the run from half the galaxy. Everyone wants me to save someone, teach someone, find someone, kill someone, or just die. What do you think?"

She stared at him with her best pazaak face on. But he wasn't fooled. "I think you are," he accused, staring right back. "I think you're having fun turning planets upside-down and rearranging the face of the galaxy."

Darden began to grin. "Well, maybe a little," she admitted.

"Good grief," Atton said. "I could show you a less destructive way to have fun, you know. If you're interested."

"Oh, really?" Darden asked, feeling brave.

"Yeah, we're being watched," he said in the same light tone.

Darden's adrenaline spiked for a completely different reason than she had expected it to. Atton hadn't taken his eyes off her face, but the expression in his eyes had changed completely. "Don't look," he said, keeping his voice low and light, like it had been before he'd made his astonishing revelation. "There's a couple of kids over by the bar. They've been looking over here every so often for a while now. Human male, Rutian Twi'lek female. Both well-armed and armored, and I can't identify the make of anything they're carrying."

"Bounty hunters?" Darden said.

"Don't think so. Assassins, maybe. But they're military, not criminal."

Darden stared at her companion, wondering how he could possibly tell. How he'd picked up their tail at all when they'd been talking like they had been. Then, as if almost ready to leave, she pushed her plate away and looked around the entire cantina, passing her eyes over everyone and everything without stopping to look at any one person in particular. "I see them," she said. "They've noticed we've noticed them. They're coming over here."

She turned to face the newcomers then. Human male, Rutian Twi'lek female. Unidentifiable armor, just like Atton had said. Both right around twenty years old. The Twi'lek wore a blaster on each hip. The male appeared unarmed until Darden saw the outline of a tubular weapon inside his jacket as it moved against him. She went still. Lightsaber. She could feel the Force moving through him, and now he was at their table, and she looked up at him and thought she recognized him.

"We've met," she said slowly. "I can't quite recall—"

"Dustil Onasi," the young man said. "I was with Jolee Bindo on the Rim two years back. I thought it was you, General."

"Relax, Atton," Darden said, turning to her companion. Atton was tense, his hand near his blaster. "He's a friend, I think."

Dustil nodded. "Yeah, but you shouldn't be here," Dustil said, keeping his voice low. "Don't you know there's a planet's worth of bounty on your head?"

"On any Jedi's head, so I believe," Darden said pointedly.

"Keep your voice down, please," Dustil said, wincing. He gestured to his companion. "This is Mission Vao. Mission, Darden Leona."

"Nice to meet you," said the Twi'lek girl in perfect Basic, with a slight street accent from a planet Darden couldn't quite identify. She held out a slim blue hand, and Darden took it.

"This is Atton Rand," she said, gesturing to the same.

Atton was looking from one to the other of them. "Your names," he said slowly. "I can't place them, but I've heard them before, haven't I?"

"Normally we'd use fake ones," Mission said, without really answering the question. "Mind if we have a seat?"

"Sure," Darden said, moving over to make room for Mission. Atton reluctantly did the same for Dustil.

"So what's your story, then?" he demanded. "What do you want with us? You're a Jedi?"

Dustil shook his head. "Not so much. I was never formally trained by the Order."

"What happened to Jolee, though?" Darden asked.

Both Dustil and Mission smiled sadly. "Gone. Not killed. The old man was just contrary enough to wait until we knew all the other Jedi were being assassinated, then die of old age," Dustil said.

"Jolee Bindo," Atton repeated. "And Dustil Onasi. That's it! We talked about them on the _Harbinger_," he said to Darden. "After you looked at that log with the Admiral."

"Admiral Carth Onasi is my father," Dustil told him.

"You're Republic," Atton said, standing. "Special ops, both of you, or my name isn't Atton Rand! C'mon Darden, let's go."

"Hold on a minute, will you?" Mission said. "We're not here professionally, okay? Sheesh. Chill out."

Darden remained seated, and Atton sat down again, looking very, very unhappy. "So the Republic's after us too, are they?"

"You kidding?" Dustil said. "You know what you've been up to. We heard you. You can't turn entire planets upside-down without getting some attention, Atton—is it? Important ones, too. Telos, Onderon, those planets are setting the trajectory for the entire Republic these days. But the Republic's not after you guys. Just watching you. Not murderously."

"But information's gone out," Mission said. "We were here looking into something else, but when we heard the _Ebon Hawk_ landed today and Dustil saw you here in the cantina…"

"But you aren't after us," Darden said. "So what do you want?"

"First of all to warn you off-planet," Dustil said. "You're important. Almost every bounty hunter on this moon is after you. If they haven't heard you've landed yet, they'll know in less than a week, and though they can't attack you on the moon's surface because of the truce, unless you leave tonight, you'll have a string of tails light-years long when you do leave here."

Darden shrugged. "I plan to take care of the bounty so that's not an issue," she said.

Atton grimaced, and Mission stared at her, then burst out laughing. "Take it to the crime boss of the entire sector, just like that? Hah!" She stopped laughing and smiled, but the smile was a sad smile. "You're my kind of crazy, Darden. You remind me of someone I knew once. The reports we've been getting reminded me of her, too. And now that you've landed, in the _Ebon Hawk_…" she hesitated. "That's the other thing. Can we take a look at her? The navicomputer, especially."

Darden stared. "The ship. You're not the first one interested. That recording on the _Harbinger_. Your father, Dustil, was very interested in the Ebon Hawk. And there's a Mandalorian that travels with me, too—"

Mission smiled. "Yes. Mandalore. He would be."

"What do you know about him?" Atton asked, leaning forward.

"Mandalore and me are old friends," Mission said. "From the Jedi Civil War. But I'm not gonna tell you what he hasn't. He's a good one, though. He won't mean _you_ any harm, Darden."

Darden stared at Mission, and then at Dustil.

"Could we take a look at the navicomputer?" he asked. "We'd make it worth your while."

Darden felt like she was looking a jigsaw puzzle from which just three or four pieces were missing. She could see almost the entire picture, but not everything. "It's voice-locked," she said. "Not my voice. None of us can get into it. Atton has to work with our T3 unit to fly it."

"T3 unit?" Mission asked sharply.

"Yes, T3-M4."

Mission hissed in a breath. "Can we—Darden, please, I'm _begging_ you. Show us to the ship."

Darden looked at the Twi'lek's anxious, delicate face and her earnest grey eyes. At Dustil's hard jaw. He looked…angry somehow, while she looked desperate. "Okay," she said. "Come with us."

She held up her hand to the barkeeper for the check. He came over, but Atton took the bill, scowling, and paid the credits for their supper.

* * *

It took some doing to clear out the crew when the four of them got back to the _Ebon Hawk_. Everyone wanted to know what they were supposed to do if the bounty hunters didn't take Ratrin Vhek out like Mandalore said Darden thought they would. Everyone wanted to lodge a protest or ask who the strangers were and what they were doing. But eventually Darden managed to convince everyone that she had Ratrin Vhek in hand, and that Dustil and Mission weren't about to start blasting her to pieces or sabotage T3-M4, though, really, she wasn't sure of that last herself, and get them to all go to their respective hang-outs across the ship and start packing up a couple days' supplies while she and the Republic operatives went to the storage room.

Mission took one look at the broken-down HK unit Darden had been working on there and laughed. "You ended up with him, too?"

"You know the droid?"

"Know him? This here is the most obnoxious assassin droid in the galaxy. You've been repairing him? Why?"

"Because he's an earlier model of some droids after me. I think he might know something," Darden said.

"Where'd you find him?" Dustil asked.

"He was on board when I found the ship," Darden replied. "Came with it, like T3 here."

The little utility droid was standing very close to Mission, chirping and beeping and whirring so fast that Darden could hardly keep up.

"Yeah, I missed you, too, little guy," Mission said, patting the droid's casing with a blue hand. "At least Aithne took you with her, though, right?"

The droid's beeping turned angry and anxious. Darden wasn't able to understand most of it. All she could get was that T3's former master, this Aithne Mission was talking about, had left him, too, eventually. Somewhere—but those coordinates couldn't be right. That was outside the known galaxy. She'd left the ship, left him, and he'd come for help because—

"Show us, Teethree," Mission said, kneeling beside the droid and doing something with his behavior core.

There was a brief static noise, and then a holo-recording of a man appeared in the space between Darden and Dustil and Mission. Admiral Carth Onasi, a few years younger, it looked like. The holo-recording looked left, and right, as if checking to make sure no one was around. Then he spoke in a quiet, urgent voice.

"Teethree, there's not much time—I've seen that expression on Aithne's face before. Now I don't know where she's planning on going, but it's dangerous. She's going to leave without telling me—I don't know why, but there's a chance she'll take you. "His face twisted in the recording, but he fought it, mastered himself, and continued, "If she does, I need you to watch out for her. Aithne's strong, but even she can't face everything alone. Do what you can, Teethree—"he hesitated. His voice shook. "If she doesn't make it back, then I need you to come back, find help. If not me, then other Jedi—the Republic?" He shook his head. In a low voice, speaking more to himself than to T3-M4, he said, "I can't lose her, even if she wants to be lost." Just then, the holo looked up, leaned forward, and the recording ended.

T3-M4 whistled lowly, sounding sadder than Darden had ever heard the normally cheerful little droid. More broken than when he'd been beat up and left for scrap in the Peragus fuel line. Mission's eyes were misty. Dustil's jaw was tight.

"There has to be more," he said. "Coordinates, information? Where was she when you last saw her? What was she doing? T3?"

The droid beeped a negative, and rattled off the same nonsense coordinates again. Darden swallowed, and nodded.

"Well."

She looked at Dustil and Mission. Her stomach was knotted and tight. "It's Revan, isn't it? That's what this is all about. This was her ship, the ship she ended the Jedi Civil War in. And the ship she vanished in."

"Yeah," said an unexpected voice. Mandalore was standing in the doorway. "This was her ship. She leaves after the war, she doesn't tell any of us where she's going. Then the best lead I've found in years just falls into my lap on Dxun. But it turns out to be nothing." His fingers clenched into fists so hard Darden heard his armor squeal in protest.

"You fought with her, didn't you? In the Civil War," Darden asked him. "Jolee told me of a Mandalorian, years ago. She gave you that mask."

Mandalore raised his hands and unfastened the clasps at his neck. He lifted the helm and the mask of Mandalore off of his head, and for the first time, Darden saw his face. Tired green-blue eyes looked out at her from the scarred and weathered visage of a beaten down man of sixty, at least. The corner of his lip was turned up in miserable self-contempt. His gray-white hair and beard were cut short.

"Yeah. She gave it to me. Told me to reunite the clans. Said the galaxy would need the Mandalorians strong again, maybe soon." He turned to the Republic operatives. "Hey, kid. Been a long time. Dustil."

"Hey, Canderous," Mission said.

"Canderous. Is that your name?" Darden asked.

"Yeah. Canderous Ordo."

The words were weary, defeated. Darden looked from Mandalore—from Canderous Ordo to Mission Vao, to T3-M4. "You all fought with her," she said. "And Dustil?"

"I'm from Telos," the young man said heavily. "The Sith destroyed my homeworld and killed my mother. I was captured, and my father didn't make it in time. They took me to Korriban. Kept me, trained me. They had me persuaded they were right and I was about to go to war for them when Revan helped my father to find me. And Revan—well, she was more persuasive. She and my father, they risked everything to get me off Korriban, show me what I was doing was wrong and evil and that the Sith wanted to use me, not help me. After the war, she convinced Jolee to teach me how to control my emotions, how to use the training the Sith had given me for good, not evil. I reconnected with my father, too, because of her."

"Aithne found me on Taris," Mission said quietly. "I was just a kid. I didn't have anyone, just my best friend Zaalbar, and he was an exiled Wookiee. She saved him from slavery, and he swore a life debt to her, but she took us both on. If she hadn't, both of us would have died when Malak destroyed the planet. She's the closest thing to a mom I have, or a sister. I have to find her, Darden. We have to find her."

Canderous didn't say anything, just nodded, but Dustil shook his head. His eyes were dark. "Revan left us, Mission! She left _all _of us! You saw the recording! You saw _Father_, after she left. I thought this was a bad idea."

"She hated being called Revan," Mission said.

"Why do you call her Aithne?" Darden asked.

"When the Jedi sent Bastila to capture Revan near the end of the war, Malak fired on her ship. Destroy two enemies at once, he thought. Like killing Revan would be that easy. He did do a number on her brain, though," Canderous said. "The Jedi were able to save her life, but barely. And when they healed her mind, they built her a false identity. Aithne Morrigan. She didn't realize who she was until months after she met us and was well on her way to destroying Malak. None of us knew, except that broken-down assassin droid there, Bastila, Jolee, and the damn Jedi Council."

"The droid knew?"

"Yeah," Mission said. "It's her droid. She built it. Hence the obnoxious personality." She smiled fondly, but her eyes were sad.

"And all this has just—fallen to me now," Darden said, looking around. "This isn't a coincidence. It can't be. I don't see the Force in everything like Kreia, but it's kind of bludgeoning me over the head now, isn't it?" She swallowed. Nodded. "She could be dead, you know," she said to Mission and Canderous.

"You never traveled with her," Mission said fiercely.

Darden looked at her levelly.

"Keep in mind who you're talking to, kid," Canderous said. Then he looked at Darden. "You knew her as well as we did. You've seen her in action. You _know_ she's not dead," he said.

Darden shook her head. "I knew Revan. My friend. A Jedi Knight. My commander in the wars. I knew the woman that demolished your people, Mandalore. I was one of many people she used and many weapons she fashioned. I watched her dominate, and I watched her harden, and at the end of the wars I saw her start to fall. But I _never _knew Aithne Morrigan." But her heart was racing. Her palms were sweating.

"So much the better," Dustil said bitterly. "Aithne Morrigan walks in the light, but she destroys everything she touches anyway. She saves you, makes you love her, says she loves you, and then she leaves. And here we all are. Lost and alone. Are we better, the four of us, for having been saved by Revan, for having loved her and been loved by her? Is my father better?"

Canderous was silent, but Mission laid a hand on her friend's arm. "I think we are," she said. "I think you are. And I'm sure Carth wouldn't wish for even a second that he hadn't known Aithne."

Darden looked at Mission and Dustil, at the man who called himself Mandalore now, staring down at the mask Revan had charged him with. She remembered Admiral Carth Onasi's desperate face, and his plea to a droid. "She must have loved you," she said. "She had to have. It must have been like cutting out her heart with a pen-knife, to leave you all behind. To leave him. I wonder why she did it."

Teethree whirred sadly, and Darden clenched her fists. "Right. Right. Force knows I have enough to do, but this came to _me_. The _Ebon Hawk_ is mine now, along with its locked navicomputer and these two droids. If we can take down Goto, find Zez-Kai Ell. If we can stop the Sith, somehow…maybe…" She swallowed again. Nodded again. "You're with me?" she asked Canderous and T3-M4.

The utility droid beeped determinedly. Mandalore put on his helmet again. "I will obey her instructions to me," he said. "I will rally the Mandalorians. I will build her army. But if we find any trace of her, any lead—I have to know."

"And you? Mission? Dustil? Are you with me? We could use all the help we can get."

Dustil and Mission looked at one another, then shook their heads. "We've got another job here," Dustil said. "There's something weird going on with droids in this sector of space; we've traced it to Nar Shaddaa. There's this signal..." He shook his head. "Never mind about that, though."

"No," Darden said, frowning. "I know what you're talking about. They were using a droid with a weird module on its arm to rig the swoop races here. There was another like it spying in the pazaak den, but more worryingly, there were two more that tried to kill me today when I started looking into a moon-wide signal for a Bith in the flophouse. They did kill the Bith and his Twi'lek friend. Hmm."

Dustil raised his eyebrows. "Did you find anything out?"

Darden shook her head. "No. Here, though—"she rummaged around in her pack and brought out a datapad. "The Bith had this on him when he died. Sorry I can't be of more help. With that or with the ship."

Mandalore shook his head. "We got enough to worry about, Leona. Well. Mission? Dustil? Glad you're still alive."

"You, too, Canderous," Mission said. She surprised Darden by actually hugging the armored Mandalorian. Mandalore surprised Darden more by letting her. Dustil shook his hand in his turn, and he pulled out a couple hundred credits from his pack and then turned to Darden.

"We did say we'd make it worth your while," he began.

Darden shook her head. "Don't worry about it, Dustil," she said. "I'm afraid I didn't give you any useful information. You told me more than I could tell you. Sorry about that. I—when…if I find out anything more…about Revan, or the droids—will I be able to contact you? Should I?" She looked from Dustil's tight jaw to Mission's imploring eyes nervously. Dustil hesitated, looked from Mission to Canderous, then back at the empty space where T3-M4 had played the holo of his father. Then he nodded.

Mission relaxed. She smiled at Darden and walked out of the storage room into the main hold and over to a console. She typed something in. "I'm saving the ID code of our fighter in your communications console," she said. "_Hawk's Honor_. If you find anything, send us a transmission, okay? We probably won't be able to meet with you again, General, but we—I—will be grateful for anything you and Canderous find." She turned to Darden, extended a hand. Darden shook Mission's hand, then Dustil's.

Bao-Dur walked out of the garage, and the Handmaiden was peeking from the cargo hold.

Dustil smiled tightly. It had been rather a bust for him and Mission, Darden thought. "We'll see ourselves out," he said. "May the Force be with You."

"And you as well."

Darden heard the boarding ramp lower and raise. Bao-Dur came out into the hold. "Well?" he asked, more Mandalore than Darden.

"Old friends of mine," the Mandalorian said. "We used to travel on this ship. They wanted to talk about old times."

Bao-Dur blinked and the Handmaiden, Atton, and Visas all came out from their various hang-outs. "What's he talking about, Darden?" Atton wanted to know. "What did the Republics want?"

"They wanted to make sure we know that this ship belonged to my commander, to Revan," Darden said, refusing to look at any of them. "She ended the Jedi Civil War in our little _Ebon Hawk, _apparently, and then flew off into the Unknown Regions on it, leaving her friends. T3-M4 and Canderous here were two of them, along with that broken HK unit in the storage hold. Admiral Carth Onasi, his son Dustil, and Mission Vao were some others." She paused. "Wherever Revan went, this ship's been there."

"No way," Atton said. "And the voiceprint on the navicomputer…?"

"I daresay," Darden agreed. Kreia's mind was shut off from hers with iron walls, though Darden knew she'd been listening in. It only cemented her conviction that Kreia had known Revan, too, once upon a time.

"Wow," Atton said, shaking his head. "Revan's old ship."

"That's some legacy, General," Bao-Dur said. "It feels like more than a coincidence, somehow. Perhaps the Force…maybe we're supposed to do something with this."

"We will be able to do nothing if this Ratrin Vhek takes the ship tomorrow like he plans," the Handmaiden said practically.

"If he even gets here," Darden said. "Look, we'll head to the flophouse tomorrow morning with our stuff. A couple rooms are vacant now and the landlord owes me a couple favors. We'll set a guard on the ship, though, make sure Vhek doesn't fly off with her just yet, at least. Visas, Canderous? How about it?"

"I am ready to serve," Visas said, and Canderous nodded.

"Good. That's settled, then," Darden said. "Now everybody back off, okay? I need to think. Maybe even sleep."

* * *

**A/N: So went back and reread the earlier chapters. NOT as bad as I thought. Think I'll keep at it, at least for a while. **

**Coming Soon: Darden's get-noticed plan works. Only problem is, it works on the wrong people, and the first person to really get any attention is Atton, oddly enough. Darden discovers the circumstances in which 'Atton Rand' became so familiar with Nar Shaddaa. Ratrin Vhek gives up his rights to the **_**Ebon Hawk**_** after Darden falls afoul of the Red Eclipse, but ships are tiny things compared to the heart of a sentient, and the will of the Force. **

**Read and Review!**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	19. Assassin

**Disclaimer: As much as I'd love to take credit for this, I cannot tell a lie.**

* * *

XVIII.

Assassin

Darden shook her hair out of her eyes and passed the ration bars around, thinking she'd have to cut her hair again soon or start pulling it back. Her bangs were getting long enough to be a liability in combat. She, Atton, and the Handmaiden rested against the railing that surrounded the pit in the central sector square. Bao-Dur and Kreia were watching credits and supplies at the flophouse off the docks while Canderous and Visas made sure Ratrin Vhek didn't fly off with the _Hawk_ just yet.

Everyone was tired. It'd been a busy morning in the Refugee living quarters kicking up a fuss with both the Serocco gang and the Exchange presence. The main reason Darden had done it was to make the Exchange higher-ups mad, but she knew it would have the additional benefit of making the lives of the refugees much easier. She didn't like the look of them. Most of them were hollow-cheeked and glaze-eyed. You could see their ribs beneath their threadbare, too-tight clothing. Darden had been able to heal a couple of the sick ones with the Force or the medical supplies the Handmaiden had in her pack, been able to free one little girl from slavery, but she had known when she'd done it that she was treating symptoms. The violence this morning had dealt with the cause, temporarily, at least. But Darden still didn't like to eat in front of the people there.

She had to head back to the flophouse anyway, to see if Aaida had made it back to Lootra, and to see that captain-less crew about Odis and that Ithorian that she'd helped out yesterday about Kahranna and her family. But she'd stopped for lunch before she got there.

Atton and the Handmaiden had acquitted themselves well in the fighting. The Handmaiden had been an enormous help, as usual, and Atton hadn't really even complained. At least, not like he had yesterday. But then, a lot of what they'd done this morning had been to help the refugees as much as to get in trouble with the Exchange, and though Atton wasn't a fan of trouble with the Exchange, Darden got the feeling that he was sympathetic with the refugees. She actually sort of thought he might have been one himself at one point. He was just so familiar with the sector.

Darden drank from her canteen and sat in companionable silence with the others, ignoring the weird looks passersby gave Atton and the Handmaiden's blood-flecked garments. She felt their weariness, sensed their trust and liking for her. She was careful not to listen to them _too_ carefully. She didn't want to invade their privacy, and she sensed Atton would know, and be sure to be thinking something she didn't want to hear. The Handmaiden's Force Sensitivity was evident in the way she fought, in the way she thought about fighting, in the way she predicted the flow of a firefight and was always so in tune with Darden that she was precisely where she needed to be. Darden had spotted it almost immediately. It had taken her longer to tell with Atton. But she was starting to suspect he was Sensitive, too. He was just too good at keeping Jedi out of his head. She'd 'played pazaak' with him more than once, after he'd taught her the first time. He was incredible at it, and more than that, he could tell when Darden was testing his 'door', and invariably switched to a lurid fantasy to kick her back out. He could tell when _her _'door' was breaking down and he called her on it. But though Darden was fairly certain one day she would be able to train the Handmaiden like Bao-Dur, she didn't think she'd be able to train Atton. The Handmaiden wanted the Force. Atton didn't.

Darden sat back against the railing, stretching out beyond her companions to feel the Force. She blinked. It was strong here. Very strong. She could feel life pulsing, echoing down through the moon. It raced and beat through her veins like drums.

Kreia's consciousness touched her mind. _"I can feel your thoughts from a great distance, like a shiver running through you."_

Darden sent Kreia a mental image of her location, pushed through her feelings. _"Something lives here. It's strange…"_

_ "It is Nar Shaddaa," _Kreia whispered into her mind. _"The true Nar Shaddaa, that you feel around you. It is this moon, with the metal and machines stripped away and the currents of the Force laid bare."_

Nar Shaddaa. The words hissed in her mind with a beauty she had not heard before. Darden focused with the Force, feeling the enormous currents of the Force swirl around her. It hurt. This moon was not a happy place. It was desperate, angry. _ "It's so alive," _she thought to Kreia. _"But with a desperation about it, too."_

The Handmaiden and Atton shifted, as if they'd been splashed by the wave that was sweeping Darden away. The Handmaiden peered down into the pit, stories and sectors down into Nar Shaddaa, looking uncomfortable. _"I am surprised that you can feel it," _Kreia said in Darden's head. _"I feared the damage to you had deadened you to such perceptions. What you feel is the echo of the minds of these creatures through the Force. Their anger. Their greed. Their desperation. It is life."_

It was a scream, a cry for help. It echoed and reverberated in Darden's mind and spirit, and like the first time she had felt the Force on Peragus, it hurt, except this time, the sensation was so much stronger. Darden shuddered. _"Can I do anything? Heal it, somehow?"_

She felt a wave of amusement from Kreia. _"One might as well heal the universe…but such manipulation is possible, yes. It requires that one be able to feel the critical point within the fractured mass…and know how to strike it in such a way that the echoes travel to your intended destination." _

The pain started to ebb away, and Darden took in a breath, wanting it to last, somehow. _"How long can I feel this? To feel the moon—it's huge."_

_ "Like life, such waking moments in the Force are rare," _Kreia told her, _"Waiting for the right moment when the critical point is struck, and the sound rises…but let us be silent. Words and thoughts are distractions. Feel this moment, for as long as it will last. Feel life, as it is, with the crude matter stripped away." _

So Darden leaned back against the railing, closed her eyes, and listened to the heartbeat of Nar Shaddaa, even as the sound slipped away from her. And she felt the lifeblood of the world pulse around her, and was grateful.

* * *

Darden watched Kahranna gathering up her stuff and smiled as one of the little boys tripped in his excitement.

"The Exchange will be sorely provoked at what we have done here this day," the Handmaiden remarked, watching them, and looking around at the refugees moving their stuff to new positions in the sector. They were trading things more freely, inspired by the kindness they had experienced to be kind to their neighbors. "But this moment, here, is the most beautiful to see. I am proud to stand beside you today, Darden Leona."

"Only you could've done what you did with the Serocco and Exchange thugs today," Darden said quietly, too low for Atton, playing Republic Senate pazaak with a fifteen year old kid a ways away, to hear. "Mandalore might've been able to fight like you did once, but he's too old now. You're the best fighter on the _Hawk_."

"It is easy to fight well when one believes in the cause one is fighting for," the girl replied, smiling. "You have done much kindness here."

/She has,/ said a voice from behind them. Darden turned to see two Twi'lek males. /Girl, if we might speak with your leader privately, we have something to tell her./

The Handmaiden looked at Darden, and Darden nodded. The Handmaiden went to help Kahranna with her children. Darden looked at the Twi'leks. "Well?"

/We feel we must repay you for what you have done here,/ the orange one said. /So we have a warning for you. That one—your human companion, the male one./ He nodded at Atton.

"Yeah, what about him?" Darden asked.

/We have seen him before,/ said the other Twi'lek.

"Yeah, I think Atton has been here before," Darden said. "So what?"

The orange Twi'lek frowned. /Atton was the name we knew him by, but that is not his name. He came to the smuggler's moon years into the Jedi Civil War. He claimed he had been displaced by the war./

/Do not trust him,/ said the other, firmly. /He is not a soldier—he is a killer, tried and true. We can give you nothing more than that warning. The rest is up to you./

Both Twi'leks bowed, and turned. "Wait!" Darden called. "What do you…"

"Leona!" called a sharp voice. Darden turned, to see Mandalore and Bao-Dur had jogged up. She turned back, but the Twi'leks had gone. "We've got trouble!" Canderous said.

Darden immediately dismissed thoughts of Atton's past, and Atton and the Handmaiden left their respective places to rejoin her.

"What's happened?" Atton asked.

"The Red Eclipse was scheduled to land on the landing pad you said was unclaimed, that's what," Bao-Dur said, naming a high-profile and powerful slaving organization. He was unaccustomedly irate, so much so that Darden looked at him.

"Control yourself, soldier. What's going on?"

"They landed someplace else, but they're angry we took the pad," Mandalore said. "They've taken a fancy to the Ebon Hawk and have decided to seize it for compensation." He swore colorfully in Mando'a. "There's over a dozen of them. We saw them get Vhek when he tried to board the ship."

Darden frowned. "Well. That wasn't part of the plan," she said. "Right." She brought up the com-link. "Visas? Come in, Visas."

"Darden," Visas' voice crackled over the comm. "What has happened?"

"Slavers have the _Ebon Hawk_. We're taking it back. Get Kreia and T3-M4 and meet the rest of us by that shop off the pad."

"It shall be done," Visas answered. The com-link went dead, and Darden nodded at the others. "Come on."

* * *

Ratrin Vhek left the _Ebon Hawk_ in a hurry the very instant Darden released him from the cuffs Caahmakt the Red Eclipse captain had bound him with, gifting it to Darden with no hard feelings and muttering something about the _Ebon Hawk_ being cursed. It wasn't exactly how Darden had planned on things working out, but she liked it just fine. Better, even, because the people that had wound up dead were slavers, and the galaxy was well rid of them.

The crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ spent the rest of that day dragging bodies out of the ship and to the back step of a cheap hospital Atton claimed would either burn the corpses or utilize them to heal others with the credits to pay for semi-fresh organs. They spent the evening moving supplies back into the _Ebon Hawk_ and giving all the decks a thorough scrubbing. Then after a very late meal, almost everyone turned in immediately.

Darden didn't. She went to the medical room. She could sense the violence that had happened here today, and it made her a little uncomfortable, but that other sense she had always had here, one of the 'echoes' she had heard that time she had listened with Kreia of the people that lived here before her was still present. She thought one of the Jedi that had traveled with Revan must have slept here once. Not Revan herself—the echo was too calm for that—but one of the others. At any rate, it was a good place to think.

The entire crew was relieved to have the _Ebon Hawk_ back. Darden was, herself. She reflected that if she'd known before meeting Ratrin Vhek that the ship had been Revan's she probably wouldn't have gambled it like she had in order to get a few weeks' rest.

But that wasn't primarily what was bothering her. The fight was over and Vhek was gone. No, Darden was thinking about earlier in the day, when the two mysterious Twi'leks had warned her about the man that called himself Atton Rand. They hadn't lied. She would have sensed it if they had, and anyway, what they'd told her made sense. It didn't matter. Whatever Atton had been, he'd stopped. The past was in the past and she'd promised him not to ask about his. But it bothered her, nonetheless. She'd suspected before that Atton might have been some kind of assassin. To have it confirmed, though, was upsetting. It wasn't logical to be upset. Force knew she had no ground to stand on to judge him. And yet…!

There were footsteps in the corridor outside, and Darden sighed. They were his. He looked in, saw her face, and frowned. "What's eating you, then?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. "We have the _Ebon Hawk_ back, we kicked up a hell of a fuss this morning. The Exchange is bound to notice us soon. What's wrong?"

Darden didn't look at him. She kicked her swinging legs against the medical cot. "Nothing," she said, quietly. Then she forced a smile. "You're always complaining about my past catching up with us. It's just—today your past caught up with us." She shrugged, as if it was unimportant. She wanted it to be unimportant.

Atton went still, though, and Darden nodded ruefully. It was important. He laughed nervously, though. "What happened? D'you run into somebody in the thirty seconds I wasn't with you today that said I owed 'em credits or something?"

"No," Darden said.

Atton laughed again, now looking more nervous than ever. "It wasn't some wom—'

"No," Darden said, cutting him off. Then she looked up, searching his face. His every muscle was tense. "Atton—is there anything you want to tell me? Who you were? Why you showed up here in the middle of the Jedi Civil War? Your real name, maybe?"

Atton's face went blank and he stood up straight. Slowly, quietly, he asked, "Who have you been talking to?"

Darden waved a hand impatiently. "I ran into a couple Twi'leks in the Refugee Sector this morning," she stood, shook her head. "Look, never mind, it doesn't matter." She started to go, but Atton shook his head.

"Obviously it does. I did show up on Nar Shaddaa during the Jedi Civil War, okay? Along with a lot of other refugees. Why _does_ it matter to you? Tell me that."

Darden faced him square on. "Because what those Twi'leks told me made a lot of sense considering what I've seen. You blow hot and cold, Atton, and I can't make sense of it. I don't know whether you want to be here, want to help me, or if you want to put a blaster to my head, sometimes. And it bothers me, okay? What's your problem?"

Atton was glaring now. "You know what? I helped you get off Peragus. If I hadn't been there, you wouldn't have even gotten off the administration level. I'm trying to help you. I don't know why I'm bothering."

Darden spread her hands helplessly. "Neither do I!" she cried. "It seems to go against every instinct you have. Why are you trying to protect me?!"

Atton dropped his eyes. "I don't know," he muttered, somewhat subdued. "I'm not sure I understand it half the time."

"No," Darden said. "That's not good enough. I want to know where you've been and what you've done, because I think it can explain why you sometimes look at me like hate my guts and want to take me down, and sometimes…well…"

Atton cut her off. "You want to talk past? Let's talk yours, sweetheart! I haven't pressed you about the Wars. Not once! Oh, I know why you were about ready to explode on Dxun. You think I haven't heard about that? Everyone has. I heard about Serroco, and I sure as hell know about Malachor V. What makes you think you've got the right to interrogate me on anything? You've got plenty of lives to answer for—all you Jedi do."

Darden stood up as tall as she could, hating how he towered over her. "I haven't hidden anything from you. I hated what happened in the war, on both sides. I hate what I did, what I had to do. You know that, Atton!"

"How did you even live with yourself after Malachor?" he demanded. "Is that why you went back to the Jedi Council? Hoping they'd kill you? But Jedi don't kill, do they? At least not their prisoners. Maybe you were counting on it when you went back in chains."

The cynical sneer Darden had only ever seen flit across Atton's face was there in all its glory now. She stared at him, amazed. "The Jedi didn't chain me—"she began.

He rolled his eyes. "Oh, so you got off easy—you were exiled, brushed under the cargo ramp, another dirty little Jedi secret." He went still then, and his eyes narrowed. Darden could feel waves of anger, fear, and guilt emanating from him, but at the very moment she was most certain he was Force Sensitive, she also realized how very bad that might be for her. "I'll tell you—"he said, in a quiet, dangerous voice. "All those Jedi at Malachor? They deserved it. Every last one of them."

Darden felt like he had stabbed her. She staggered back, and her eyes stung. "What? They didn't! What are you even talking about?"

A strange, sick smile played around the corners of Atton's mouth, like he was pleased he was hurting her. "Jedi lie," he spat. "They manipulate. And every act of charity or kindness they do, you can drag it out squirming into the light and see it for what it is. The galaxy doesn't need Jedi arrogance or Jedi hypocrisy anymore."

Darden stared at him. This was the Atton that didn't make sense, then, the one beneath the surface of the wisecracking pilot. But the words he spoke, they sounded like the dying throes of some beast long starved, not like something he actually believed. Something he had believed, maybe, but not anymore. "Where are you getting all this?" she murmured. "Where does this come from?"

Atton shook his head, starting to pace the corridor. Darden looked down the hall towards the cargo hold, hoping the Handmaiden didn't wake up and hear this. Atton looked threatening, and the Echani girl would move to neutralize the threat. "At least the Sith are honest about what they're killing for," Atton said, almost speaking to himself now. "The Jedi are pacifists…except in times of war. They're teachers…except when it comes to telling their students the truth. And when they save you…" he laughed, bitterly. "It's only so you can suffer more." He wouldn't look at her anymore. They were talking about him now and they both knew it.

"What did the Jedi ever do to you?" Darden asked him. "You can't believe all that—it's not true."

Atton turned around to look at her and sneered. "Whatever. Just leave me alone. I don't know why I'm wasting time with you anyway."

He started to go, but Darden said, "Wait!" He paused. Darden hesitated, gathering her courage. "Do you really think this is a waste of time?"

Atton swore in that language Darden didn't know, but his shoulders dropped and his muscles relaxed. "No," he murmured finally. "Damned if I know why, but no." He turned and walked back into the med bay. He sat down on the chair opposite the cot, and Darden sat on the cot.

She took in a deep breath and looked at him. "You really don't hate me, do you? Whatever you believed about the Jedi."

"I don't," Atton said, looking down.

"I'm not fitting into whatever impression you had of the Jedi."

Atton laughed, shortly and sharply. "You are in some ways. In others not at all. You're a mess."

"So are you, it seems," Darden retorted. "So. I want to know where all this comes from, Atton. I didn't care, but this is screwing you up, and I can't work with you like this. And I want to keep working with you. You're my pilot, and my friend."

Atton leaned down, bracing his elbows on his knees and cradling his head in his hands. "Don't get too attached to me, Darden," he said. "I don't like it."

"So you left the war," Darden said.

"I'm a deserter," he explained, without looking up. "It's what I do."

"It's happened more than once, then," Darden said. "Not just the Jedi Civil War?"

Atton laughed harshly again. "I served in both wars. Against the Mandalorians, before and after Revan, and again…when Revan declared war on the Jedi."

Darden nodded slowly. "You were Sith."

Atton looked up. "That's just a name," he argued. "It's what we did that was important. But it was more than that—you were there, you know how easy it was to hate the Jedi who sat back in the Republic 'evaluating' the threat…and watched us die against the Mandalorians."

Darden thought of Atris, and said nothing.

"You can't believe in the Republic anymore after the Mandalorian Wars," Atton said, spreading his hands and looking at her helplessly. "After Revan, nothing was the same. Right after that final battle at Malachor, I was right there with the rest of the defectors, because it was the right thing to do."

Darden shifted. "You betrayed the Republic, doing that," she said, uncomfortable.

Atton shook his head. "No, I didn't," he said firmly. "We needed the Jedi during the Mandalorian Wars, more than anything. The Mandalorians were slaughtering us by the millions…the millions. You were at Serroco, when they turned the Stereb cities into glass craters. At Duro, when basilisk war droids rained like meteors onto the orbiting cities. And when the Mandalorians set fire to the Xoxin plains on Eres III—the fires that still burn. Without the Jedi that turned on the Council—without you, the Republic would have lost the war, and we would all be Mandalorian slaves or corpses."

Darden leaned forward, fascinated. He kept surprising her. She hadn't known before tonight that Atton Rand could hate like he could, nor that he could speak like he was speaking now. But it didn't make sense. "So you immediately turned around and became a Sith to wage war on the Republic you'd just saved?" she asked.

Atton shook his head, impatient. "If that's what you wanna call knowing when to fight and when to kill, then yes, but you can't really break down people into Sith and Jedi and expect everything to make sense. We were loyal to Revan. That was enough. She saved us."

His words struck a chord in Darden, and she started to understand, a little. She sighed. "So you became a Sith. How?"

Atton nodded. "After Malachor, after the Mandalorian Wars, that's when the Sith teachings started spreading through the ranks. We knew where our loyalties lay—to the Jedi that had come to help us, not the ones who sat back on Dantooine and Coruscant, watching us die. So when those same Jedi who watched us die decided to start fighting us during the Jedi Civil War, we fought back. I fought back."

Darden looked at him. "You were good at it, weren't you? Fighting Jedi?"

Atton held her gaze. "I didn't fight Jedi. I killed them. A lot of them. People say killing Jedi is hard. It's not, you just have to be smart about it. No blasters, no getting close to them, no attacking them directly when you can gun down their allies instead." He shrugged. "There's ways of gassing them, drugging them, making them lose control, torturing them. Yeah, I was good at it." He held Darden's gaze, and Darden saw the self-hatred in him. "What's worse," he added, "Killing them wasn't the best thing. Making them fall…making them see our side of it. That was the best."

Darden swallowed. "And it was easy for you?"

Now Atton looked away. "I taught myself…techniques," he said. "It's hard for Jedi to sense what you're really thinking if you throw up walls of strong emotions and feelings. Lust, impatience, cowardice…most Jedi awareness doesn't cruise beyond the surface feelings, to see what's deeper. And I was good at that, throwing up walls, and my superiors knew it. Sometimes the Jedi on our side wouldn't even realize I was there."

"The pazaak," Darden murmured. "And…and the other stuff? You force emotions? Shield your thoughts, put the Jedi off balance?" She was suddenly scared, for the first time since he'd started talking, and unaccountably hurt, too. Had Atton been hiding from her? Trying to put her off balance? How much of what he thought was real? Was any of it?

Atton didn't catch the change in her tone. "Yeah," he said, still studying the floor. "I had a talent for it. More like instinct. I wasn't the only one. I know you left at the Mandalorian Wars, so you don't know much about what went on behind the scenes in the Jedi Civil War. But Revan understood one thing: the real battle was going to be fought between the Jedi on both sides. That was the only battle that mattered."

"You fought that war," Darden said. "Against Jedi, not armies."

Atton nodded pensively. "If Revan couldn't convert the Jedi, she was going to kill them. She had to have the most, the strongest Jedi. So she trained these units—elite units—into assassination squads. Their duty was to go out and capture or kill enemy Jedi. I was in one, yeah."

"That's the Echani techniques, then," Darden said bitterly. "But you were supposed to capture first?"

Atton snorted. "Revan had plans for all Jedi. I think it was important that the Jedi see her side of things, the Sith teachings. She wanted to break them, and then have them join her."

Darden looked at him, torn between admiration, disgust, and pity. "But what happened?" she asked. "You left. That's why you're so afraid of the Sith."

Atton nodded. "I left. One day I decided not to do it anymore. I ended up on Nar Shaddaa, became someone else."

"Atton Rand."

He hesitated. "My name was Jaq," he said finally.

Darden swallowed. She honestly didn't know what to do with all Atton had told her. "I would have let you walk away," she said after a long pause. "If you really didn't want to talk about it. Why are you telling me that you helped kill the Jedi?"

Atton laughed harshly. "You helped, too, sweetheart. Different circumstances, sure, but you have a bigger body count than I ever did." He shrugged. "I've only been with you what? A little over a month? But that's long enough to know that as soon as someone signs on with you, they haven't got long to live. You got history, and anyone who travels with you doesn't. So maybe I want someone to know who I was in case a story needs to be set straight. Maybe you understand."

Darden lifted her hands, dropped them. "I knew you had a story. I knew it was bad. I had guessed that you'd probably been special forces at some point, maybe even a killer. But I never thought that you'd actually killed _Jedi_. But you're sorry now, aren't you? This is your Malachor. Why did you leave, in the end?"

Atton hesitated. Then he looked at her, and answered. "There was a woman. A Jedi. She…she gave her life for mine."

"How?" Darden asked. "Were you assigned to kill her?"

Atton shook his head, and his eyes were wide with remembered wonder. "It wasn't a mission. She sought me out. She said she had come to save me. She was lying, of course-"his voice had turned acidic again for a moment, but now he softened. "Or I think she was. It doesn't matter. She told enough truth to get my attention."

"What did she tell you?"

Atton shifted in his seat. "She said that Revan was doing something terrible to Jedi within the Unknown Regions. That when we captured Jedi, they were sent to a place designed to…break them. And that anyone in her service who showed any ability with the Force was sent there, too, to turn them, to break them into Dark Jedi…or assassins trained to kill Jedi." He sat up straight then, licked his lips. "She said that's what would happen to me," he said heavily. "That I had the Force inside me, that's why I was so good at killing Jedi. And that when the Sith learned of it, there would be no escape, no turning back. I would become an instrument of the Dark Side, forever."

He looked away, shrugged. "I had heard talk in the ranks, troops vanishing. I knew what she meant. But I didn't believe her—or want to believe her."

His eyes darkened. Darden nodded. "So you got angry," she said. "Did you kill her?"

"I did what I did with all Jedi," Atton said. "I hurt her. I hurt her a lot. And then, right when I thought she couldn't take anymore—she showed me the Force. In my head. And I felt everything she felt, and I heard just an echo of what the Force was. And how what I was doing…" he broke off, and Darden saw with amazement that Atton Rand's eyes were actually glistening with unshed tears. "I think I loved her," he said. "But it wasn't that kind of love. It was the kind of love where you're willing to give up everything for someone you don't even know."

"Sacrifice," Darden told him. "Altruism. It's what it means to be a Jedi. Or what it should mean, anyway."

Atton looked back at her sharply. "I killed her for crawling in my head, Darden, for showing me that. But before she opened my mind, my only thought was that I would love to kill her. And at the end, I killed her because I loved her."

"To save her from the Dark Side? Keep her from Revan? Because you'd already hurt her enough that she couldn't get away."

Atton nodded, and a tear dropped down his cheek. "In the end, she sacrificed herself to keep my secret, to prevent the Sith from knowing about that touch of the Force inside me. She wasted her life to save me. Me. And I felt her die, when she opened my mind. I've killed Jedi, Darden. But I was never there to feel it, to be on the receiving end. And after that—I couldn't stop _feeling_ things." He spread his hands. "Before? Guilt, lust, impatience, it had been orchestrated to get close. After her it all just kept tumbling out, and I couldn't keep doing what I was doing."

Darden took in a breath, suddenly feeling much better.

"So I left," Atton continued. "I fled with the displaced war veterans to Nar Shaddaa and I lost myself here, until the war came to an end. I didn't want to deal with Jedi anymore, or Dark Jedi, or the Force. I just wanted to be left alone. I took up smuggling. Got caught at it on Peragus. The crew left me, and then I met you. And I thought, maybe…maybe she had saved me so that I could help you. And if I can't, then I have to try."

Every single last bit of anger, of venom, had bled out of Atton Rand. And he sat before Darden, empty of what he had believed as a Sith, empty as a man, desperate. Every bit as broken as she had ever been, and drowning in self-hatred. But all Darden could feel for him was compassion. He'd been stupid. He'd been evil. But grace had been extended to him once, and he had taken the hard path. And she could only love and admire him for that. Darden slipped off the cot and knelt before him, looking up into his face. "You know something about exile, don't you, Atton Rand?" She knew instinctively Atton was this man's name now, and that she shouldn't call him Jaq.

"I didn't want to tell you," Atton admitted. "But I had to. Because if something happens, I can't let you think—"he stopped, rephrased. "I'm here for her," he said. "Because of what she did for me. Not because I expect anything. You had to know that."

"So now I know," Darden said. "Mr. Pazaak put his cards on the table. And you should know that it wasn't cowardice to leave like you did, hey? It was bravery. I'm glad you're here. Got that? I'm glad I know you. And I'm glad you told me everything."

Atton was quiet for a moment. "She showed me the Force, Darden," he said finally. "I heard it, I felt it. At the time, there was too much pain to confront it—because if I did, it meant I would be changed into something else. Now I have changed. I'm changing, traveling with you. And I'm not afraid anymore. I think if I learn how to use the Force I can help protect you," he said.

Darden regarded him.

He smiled ruefully. "Or at least buy you some time when disaster comes screaming in," he added. "I want to learn how to use the Force, like Bao-Dur. I want to learn how to use the Force to help you. You're different, Darden. You make me think the Jedi can be different."

Darden was a little surprised, but she sensed his sincerity, sensed his peace. She sat back, on the floor. "I'll train you," she told him. "Gladly."

"What must I do?" Atton asked, looking down at her. "Is there some…some ritual…or…?"

Darden laughed. "Shut up and stop being an idiot," she said. "You don't sound like a Jedi when you speak that way, you just sound like a pompous moron. Here. Sit down, across from me."

Atton slid off his chair and did so.

"Close your eyes," Darden told him, "And open your mind."

Darden reached out for him, with her mind and with her hands. She grabbed his hands across the space between them, and felt his consciousness tentatively brush hers. She smiled, closing her eyes. "You've put up walls for so long. Feel the Force around you now instead. Feel the currents of life. Listen to the echoes of your thoughts. Then listen deeper, to your heart—your very own—separated from the war."

Atton withdrew, and Darden sensed him open up to the night. The Force started to swirl around him, and she felt his presence more strongly than ever before. She sensed his determination and his fear, his care for her and the courage he was demonstrating now. "The war is over and done with," she said quietly. "You can let go of your anger, let go of your hate—who is there to hate anymore? Now. Atton. Think about what you felt when you decided you needed to help me, to protect me."

The Force moved still more swiftly around him. Atton's fear faded away, and the Force flared around him. He gasped. Darden smiled.

"You feel it?"

"Yeah," Atton said.

Darden squeezed his hands and continued to talk to him, slowly and quietly, about the Force. They meditated together, explored the Force. And the New Jedi Order gained one more member.

* * *

**A/N: Moving forward! Tell me what you think, huh?**

**Coming Soon: After two weeks of trouble making, Darden Leona finally hears from the Exchange, and all hell breaks loose on the Smuggler's Moon. **

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	20. Trapped and Retrapped

**Disclaimer: Mira isn't mine, either. Wish she was. She's almost as fun as Atton.**

* * *

XIX.

Trapped and Retrapped

Days on Nar Shaddaa fell into a pattern. Mornings Darden would go out with two or three of the crew. They would maybe work an odd job for somebody. Darden might win one of the new, fairer swoop races. They might hit up the pazaak den and win a few credits there. Then they'd eat lunch, and go cause trouble. Darden broke up pazaak scams, intruded on shadowy deals in back alleys and gutted every criminal involved. She stopped Exchange thugs from collecting credits from debtors. She got into fights taking the part of refugees, loudly and obnoxiously. Set people free from slavery. Anything she could to make noise. Refugees started smiling and greeting her by name when they saw her. Exchange thugs started attacking her on sight, in increasingly larger groups. But Darden didn't hear from the higher-ups for more than two weeks.

Every evening the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ would take care of housekeeping. They might visit a vendor to get supplies. Someone (usually Darden or the Handmaiden or surprisingly, Mandalore) would make supper, if they didn't eat out of the synthesizer. What needed to be cleaned would be cleaned. And then Darden would have Jedi lessons, first as the teacher to her three students, then as the student to the woman she still didn't like to call teacher.

Her own lessons progressed slowly. Kreia spent more time lecturing her these days than she did actually teaching her things. And not fun lectures about the history of the Jedi or lightsaber or Force forms, either. Kreia didn't like how she was doing things. Kreia figured that Darden should be spending a lot more time searching around in obscure corners of the smuggler's moon for Zez-Kai Ell, and a lot less making noise hoping to attract someone's attention. She approved of the strength Darden was gaining, but insisted that she was weakening the refugees with her efforts to aid them. More, though, she disapproved of Darden's efforts to actually teach Bao-Dur, Visas, and Atton. She did not disapprove of Darden taking them on as students. Kreia said that such a measure would only attach the three of them to Darden more; make them more dependent upon her. But with every thing Darden taught them, she said, she made them stronger and weakened herself. And Force Bonds, didn't she recall, worked both ways. Their enemies would find that they need not seek Darden out, even, if they could but find one of her students.

There was something to what Kreia said, Darden knew. Friends made a person vulnerable, and they made a Jedi doubly so. The bond between master and student was stronger still than that between friend and friend. The Sith had targeted Padawans before to get at their Jedi Masters, as Atton had told her. They might again. But Darden also knew that the more people that could wield the Force, that knew the ways of the Jedi, the further the Jedi were from extinction. She might be weakening herself, but she was strengthening the Jedi as a whole. She was strengthening Bao-Dur, Visas, and Atton. And they were worth the effort and the risk.

Bao-Dur had made monumental strides since Darden had first taken him on a month ago. He was making a lot of progress controlling his anger and clearing his mind, and every day his meditation did him more good. He had almost mastered using the Force to sense and manipulate the impulses in machines and droids, and was starting to learn to use the Force to sense around him in combat, to fight with and for him. He had modified his lightsaber with a Firknaan crystal they had found here on Nar Shaddaa. He said it felt right. He was demonstrating a preference for the more aggressive forms of lightsaber combat, but he no longer used them angrily, and the other day Darden had actually seen him walk away when Canderous had attempted to provoke him.

Visas was different. She already knew much of the Force. Of some things she knew more than Darden did. With her, it was a matter of teaching her to calm herself, to bridle her passion, stop, and see the beauty around her. When Darden took Visas along in the mornings, she watched her closely, and usually those days she avoided killing and tried to get the Miraluka woman to utilize the Force to incapacitate, and not to kill. Darden drilled Visas on the Jedi Code, on the history of the Order. She taught the woman to repeat the history of the Order to herself to remind herself of the value of life. Visas was learning her lessons more slowly than Bao-Dur. But she wanted to learn, wanted to help Darden. And Darden knew that in the end, that would be enough.

Atton's strengths were almost opposite of Bao-Dur's. Whereas Bao-Dur had a natural affinity with machines, was showing incredible aptitude for aggressive lightsaber combat, Atton's strengths were proving more mental, and more defensive. He had picked up on sensing with the Force almost immediately. Visas was delighted, both with how well he could see and listen with the Force, and with how well he could stop her from seeing him. He wasn't strong in the Force, though. Not yet. Atton had spent too much of his life blocking things out and running away. He had habits of behavior and ways of thinking more deeply ingrained than Bao-Dur's and Visas'. He shrank sometimes from actually using the Force, and he was both tempestuous and uncertain. Darden had let him build a lightsaber a week ago. He'd built a double-bladed one with a deep bronze crystal he'd returned alone with one day. He said he'd learned to fight with a double-bladed weapon when he'd trained for the squad during the Jedi Civil War. But he wasn't aggressive with the double blade like Visas and Bao-Dur. Where the two of them preferred Makashi, Atton almost always used a more defensive technique.

He was different than the others in the way he responded to Darden, too. Bao-Dur gave her all the respect of a devoted pupil and a soldier. Visas treated her like something precious. Both accepted her word about Jedi matters without question. Atton didn't. He argued. He questioned everything. Not disrespectfully, but he was determined to find out the truth about the Force. For all Darden was teaching him about the Force, he didn't view her as a superior. And he still played pazaak and made dirty jokes at Darden's expense.

Darden didn't mind them anymore, though. In fact, sometimes she almost laughed. And she relished the questions. As she grappled with Atton's challenges and his uncertainty and watched him grow in the Force, as she saw Visas filled with more peace every day, as Bao-Dur began to master his anger, Darden grew with her students.

She worked on HK-47, sometimes. His chassis still needed a lot of work, but she'd found and replaced most of the other parts he was lacking. She hadn't quite dared to power him up yet, scared of what Revan's personal assassin droid might be like.

Darden didn't have much time to spend with Mandalore and the Handmaiden, but the two of them watched her. The Handmaiden, especially. Most nights the Echani girl stood in the doorway of the garage while Darden trained the others, drinking in Darden's words. Sometimes Darden thought she might cross over and join them. She hoped that she would. But the girl never did.

But the night the Exchange finally contacted the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_, Mandalore was watching. Visas had headed off to the refresher to shower before bed, and Bao-Dur was helping Atton with a stance he was having trouble with in the Soresu form. Darden was sitting, cross-legged, on the floor, watching them, when he spoke.

"Why did you fight with Revan, Leona?"

Darden frowned, and looked up at him. "Because she realized the Republic would fall without the support of the Jedi," she answered easily. She'd realized early on that Canderous liked to reminisce about the Mandalorian Wars. It infuriated Bao-Dur, the fond way he talked about the battles they had fought. But Darden had noticed in the way he wanted to debate an openness of mind that intrigued her, like he knew what he had thought, what he had believed, for years, but wanted to hear what others had to say all the same. Like he perhaps had opinions left to form, or opinions to change. She thought it was down to Revan, and whatever relationship she had had with the Mandalorian during the Jedi Civil War.

"Huh," he said now, thoughtfully. "We had never faced Jedi before," he told her. "We didn't know the threat they represented. You've always been in the Jedi Order. Things that are common knowledge to you are rumors and stories to the rest of the galaxy. We only knew what we had seen in holovids and from our experience with Exar Kun, and by that time he was completely Sith." He looked over at Bao-Dur and Atton, as they sparred. "We thought we would triumph easily over such 'noble' and 'compassionate' leaders. Those are weaknesses we easily exploited in the past." He looked back at Darden. "What did you think of us?"

Darden looked at the expressionless mask, the helmet that hid Canderous Ordo's features, the helmet of her old enemy. "Honestly?" she asked. Mandalore inclined his head.

"I thought the Mandalorians were strong fighters," Darden said. "I very much admired how they related to one another, and the discipline they showed as a whole. I thought the ideology behind what you did was interesting, with the potential for honor, even."

"But…?" Mandalore asked.

"I was also convinced by the actions that ideology had led to, before I ever started fighting, that you had carried it to an extreme," Darden said bluntly. "In your quest to prove your strength, you grew to despise weakness, and when your challenges are not met, your drive leads you to burn worlds. And when you can't even do that, you burn yourselves. I'm not sorry I helped to stop you. I'm just sorry both of us did what we did to end it."

Mandalore was silent a moment, thinking. Then he nodded. "Hmm. But you're no pacifist, either," he remarked.

Darden looked straight through the visor where his eyes would be. "Obviously."

He shifted. "Do you ever wonder what might have happened if we won, Leona?" he said. "Heh. The Sith would have been nothing more than a border skirmish against the might of my clans. We would have brought a new age of strength and expansion to the Republic, with the wealth of the Core Worlds providing arms and warships to fuel our growth." He gestured. "Look around you. Look at what that victory you aren't sorry for has brought you. I ask you this: is the galaxy really better off for the Republic's victory?"

Darden shrugged, glancing over at Atton and Bao-Dur. "Wider stance, Atton," she called. "Bao-Dur, keep your saber up!" She looked back at Mandalore. "That really depends on what you consider 'better', doesn't it, Canderous?" she said. "Perhaps I don't measure success by conquest. Perhaps the martial state the Mandalorians would have brought if they had won the Wars isn't one that I would like to live in."

"Just think about it," Canderous said.

Darden leaned back against the wall. "There's more to life than war and battle, you know."

"There is," he conceded. "But those things are luxuries. Luxuries that were paid for by the blood of our warriors: alive and dead."

"And ours," Darden said firmly. She hesitated, then said, "_Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum_." She didn't look at him. "But there are too many to name," she murmured after a moment.

Canderous repeated the phrase, a ritual Mandalorian remembrance of friends that had died in battle. The two of them were silent together a moment. "You really are all right, Leona," he said presently.

Canderous repeated the phrase, a ritual Mandalorian remembrance of friends that had died in battle. The two of them were silent together a moment. "You really are all right, Leona," he said presently.

Darden nodded in acknowledgment. "This mission of yours to unite the clans," she said. "D'you think it'll work? Especially if it gets out that Revan made you Mandalore…"

Canderous shifted, then slid down the door frame to sit next to Darden. He made no sound, but Darden could tell by the sluggishness of his movements that it pained him. "The Mandalorian spirit has faded, but it hasn't died," he said. "Revan knew that. It will burn bright again like a star in the heavens. In the wars, Revan fought like a true warrior. She defeated us on our own terms. She embodied our philosophy and showed us our weaknesses. Then she exploited them. But I think she felt like you do, maybe. We talked, during the Jedi Civil War. She respected us, but thought that somewhere we had missed something. She figured I could set things right."

He shrugged. Darden looked over at him. "At the camp, Clan Ordo has a purpose again," she told him. "I don't know how you'll change the Mandalorians, but they're different already." She looked back at Bao-Dur and Atton. "That's enough, guys," she said. "Good work, but you don't want to strain something. Hit the fresher and get to bed. Dream sweet dreams of Soresu feet positions."

"You got it, General," Bao-Dur said. "Hey, Atton, good job today."

"Thanks," he said. "I think I'm getting it. But General, alright if I dream about you instead?"

Darden rolled her eyes. "Stow it, spacebrain," she said. But she was smiling.

The two of them walked away towards the freshers Visas had probably vacated by now.

"They're changing, too," Mandalore remarked. Something in his tone had changed. He stood. "A word of advice?"

Darden stood, too. "Yeah. What?"

"The Iridonian and the Miraluka will be fine. But watch yourself with the pilot."

Darden frowned. "Why?"

"You've lived your life avoiding attachment," Canderous said. "He hasn't. In the end, when you've made that one a man and a soldier, he might find out he misses being a coward."

He left before Darden could reply. Darden stared at the workbench, took out her lightsaber and the components, and started to work. Atton had asked to be trained. He wanted to protect her. He had asked to. But Mandalore's observation was Darden's own fear: that in the end all Atton would only end up hurting himself. He was better now than he had been when they had met. But would he be happier, when all was said and done? Darden herself was still so unsure where her head was, what she was feeling. But one thing she did know: as much as Atton wanted to protect her, she wanted to protect him. The thing was, she sometimes feared, and apparently so did Mandalore, that the biggest thing Atton needed protecting from was her. She was always just too selfish to tell him so.

Darden woke up glassy-eyed in the women's dormitory the next morning, after a terrible night's sleep. Nevertheless she stomped to the fresher and took her shower right after the Handmaiden. Afterwards, she pulled on a set of street clothes she'd bought a few days back. They weren't ugly and three sizes too large like the quasi-robes she had worn in exile, because now she wasn't trying to slide under the radar. The soft brown pants, mauve hooded shirt and loose gold vest suited her much better than the gray, anyway, without compromising her modesty. Darden hooked her lightsaber onto her belt and tightened it. She pulled on her boots, then glared into the mirror, tossing her still wet, messy hair out of her shadowed eyes.

"Darden!" Atton called. She frowned. His voice was sharp.

She came out of the fresher and went to the main hold. He was there. "We got a message on the com-link," he said. "Looks like trouble. I think this is something everyone will want to hear."

Darden blinked. "They bit?" she asked.

"They bit," Atton said. "Visquis himself. He's in charge of the entire Refugee Sector for Goto."

"Right," Darden said, shaking off her weariness. "Rise and shine, people!" she yelled. "We got action! Conference room in five!"

She walked with Atton into the conference room. Teethree was there. He beeped worriedly at her. Atton nodded at him. "The droid's the one who picked up the message," he said. "He's got it all ready to display."

The crew filed in. None of them were late sleepers, thankfully. All were alert and ready, and most looked as worried as Atton.

Teethree beeped and played the holo message.

A Quarren appeared over the table. /Welcome, Darden Leona. I regret this message has taken so long in reaching you, but I only recently became aware of your presence on Nar Shaddaa,/ he said.

"That's the trouble we caused, then," Darden muttered.

/I am Visquis,/ ran the message. /A representative of an…exchange of shipping interests here on the Smuggler's Moon. I am extending an invitation for you to join me in my private lounge within the Jekk'Jekk Tarr, where we may speak without being disturbed. I wish to discuss something of mutual interest concerning your past profession—and prospects for the future./ He paused. /Oh, and do come alone. One human in my presence is more than enough./

The holo cut off. Everyone was silent for a moment. The Jekk'Jekk Tarr was decidedly Visquis' ground. The bar was for aliens, filled with toxic gases that poisoned the skin and lungs of humans. The patrons of the bar went there _because_ there were no humans there. By requesting Darden to meet him there, Visquis was asking her to cross enemy lines.

"'Come into my parlor,' said the spider to the fly," Darden said finally. "Well, that was the plan."

"Heh. Good thing it's not a trap," said Atton.

The Handmaiden glared at him. "What are you talking about?" she demanded. "It's obviously a trap."

Atton rolled his eyes, though he was as tense as everyone else at the table. "Will you lighten up for just one moment?"

"It may be a trap, but traps work both ways," Kreia observed. "This Visquis. His kind are spread throughout the lower regions of Nar Shaddaa, and he may have information. But the choice is yours. If you go, you will have to go alone."

Darden stared at the tabletop. Now that it came to the point, her great plan was starting to seem a lot like the idiocy Atton, Mandalore, and Kreia had been saying it was all along. Finally, though, she swallowed. "Well. What must be done is best done now," she said. "The Jekk'Jekk Tarr is off the docks."

"One whiff of the cyanogen gas in there and it'll be the last breath you take, though," Atton said. "You'll need something to allow you to breathe there. And to disguise you from the other patrons."

The Handmaiden was frowning. "If you must go," she said reluctantly. "There is a space suit in the cargo hold."

Darden nodded, feeling a little better now that the crew was helping her make plans. "That ought to work nicely," she said.

"Yeah. Now all you've got to worry about is making sure the patrons don't find out that you're human and start gunning you down," Atton said. "They don't like humans in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr. That's why it's there." He shook his head. "I don't like this, Darden. The whole think stinks."

"I must confess I agree with you, Atton," the Handmaiden seconded. "For once. Darden, perhaps it might be wiser to hold back and evaluate the opposition. And must you really go alone? We could find another space suit…"

"Don't worry about her, kid," Mandalore spoke up suddenly. "Darden can take care of herself."

"I appreciate the concern, though," Darden said. "All of you."

Bao-Dur nodded, and clapped her on the shoulder on his way out. "Be careful, General," he said.

* * *

Darden imagined she looked a sight, walking down the streets of Nar Shaddaa in a space suit, even though her helmet was under her arm. She did her best not to look around and meet the gazes of the people staring at her as she made her way to the docks.

Just before she got there, though, she heard running steps behind her. She turned, held out her hand to shove the thug back about twenty feet, but it was Atton, apparently alone. Darden only had see his face to know that he had waited until the others were busy, then immediately set off after her, running to catch up. He knew she knew, too. His ears were red.

"Hey," he said, panting a little. "Look. I wanted to tell you. Be careful. I won't be able to contact you via the com-link if something happens, and I'm betting that squid-head knows it."

Machines white-screened in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr. Sentients that hated droids, as well as sentients that hated humans, frequented the bar. Darden regarded Atton, remembering what Mandalore had said the night before.

"Atton—"

He shook his head and held out his hand. He had three flat, red boxes with a white cross on the top. High-grade medpacs. The kind with quality kolto and adrenaline injections, as well as antiseptic and bandaging. "Take these, alright?" he said, putting them in Darden's hand and closing her suit-stiff fingers over them. "Got 'em off a vendor down the way. I know you can't use the Force in that thing, and they're better than the medpacs you have in your pack. If your suit gets breached, you'll need to inject them fast if you don't want your lungs to seize up. And trust me—once the seizures start, you'll be dead."

Darden looked up at him. "Atton. Look at me," she said. "I'm going in there, and I'm coming out. I'll be back with all of you at the _Ebon Hawk_ before you know it. We have lessons, right?"

Atton did look at her then, and he smiled, reassured. "Right. Watch yourself—and don't be too long. I'll keep an eye out here until you get back." A roguish light came into his eyes and they flickered towards the Entertainment Promenade. "Might see if I can kick up some excitement in that boring old cantina," he said.

Darden rolled her eyes. "Oh, any excuse to down the juma and stare at the dancing girls."

Atton winked.

Darden laughed. "You watch yourself, spacebrain," she said. "Don't do anything stupid."

Atton gestured at the space suit. "Says the Jedi queen of crazy." He mock-saluted her, waved, and headed off, and Darden thrust the medpacs into her pack and crossed over to the docks.

Except someone was blocking the path to the Jekk'Jekk Tarr.

She was leaning up against the wall where the narrow street widened, looking at her bright blue-painted nails. Her red hair was cut long in front and short in back, and pushed back out of her heavily made-up eyes with a black headband. She was wearing green leather, sporting plenty of cleavage. Maybe ten years younger than Darden.

"So," she said. "You're the big Jedi everyone's been talking about." Darden widened her stance and brought up her hand, but the young woman made no move to attack her. She lowered her hand and raised her eyes, giving Darden the once-over. "You don't look so tough to me," she said.

She stood up straight. "I thought Jedi were supposed to be smart, and here you are, running around Nar Shaddaa sticking your lightsaber into everyone's business. What, were you planning to save everyone on this moon? You're attracting more attention than a fleet of Sith warships."

Darden crossed her arms, holding the helmet to the space suit in her right hand. "What's it to you if I am?" she demanded.

The woman walked over to her. "I'm Mira," she said. "I'm the best bounty hunter in this system, and that's not me bragging, that's fact."

It was, too. Darden had asked around about the bounty hunters when she'd landed. Darden had definitely heard of Mira. She was apparently amazingly efficient, finding her targets in record time. And she never, ever killed. She wasn't Exchange. As far as Darden had heard, Mira went freelance. But she hadn't heard that Mira was out to collect Goto's bounty, though Mira's chief rival, Hanharr the Wookiee, was.

But Mira said, "I've had you in my sights ever since you landed. I've been watching you run all over Nar Shaddaa like a bantha, and for someone with a price on their head as high as yours, you sure don't know how to keep a low profile."

"I wasn't try—" Darden began. Mira cut her off with a wave of a blue-fingered hand.

"Look. I know that squid-head Visquis sent you a message to meet him in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr," she said. "He works for Goto, and it's a trap. I'm betting he's going to lure you in there, start a fight, and then he's going to wrap you up and deliver you to Goto, dead, claiming you attacked him."

She spoke very quickly, with an ironic, aggressive intonation. Darden shook her head. "Well. Hello, then, Mira. I actually knew all that," she said. "The plan was actually to subvert Visquis' plan and get to Goto. But I've heard about you." Darden looked Mira over, and started to smile. "But if _you've_ been after me—"

It had occurred to her that now Mira was here, she might get to Goto with the younger woman who so far was looking a whole lot safer. But Mira's mouth quirked up ironically and she interrupted again. "Yeah, that doesn't matter now," she said. "Because I've heard you're meeting with Visquis, and if I know about it, that means everybody else on this moon knows about it, or will soon enough. And when that happens, the bounty hunter truce is off. That means things are going to get real ugly, real quick."

Darden frowned then. "If you're as good as they say you are, you've done your research and you know I can handle it," she said, nettled.

Mira's mouth turned down, and her eyes were worried. "I think your friends are the ones in trouble," she said, more softly. "The little Echani girl? The Zabrak? The old lady, the Mandalorian, and the Miraluka? They're at your ship, right?"

"Yeah," Darden said, impressed. "Wow. You are good."

"I've got eyes," Mira said. "They'll probably be fine, at least as long as they stay together on the ship. But now the truce is off, you can bet in the next hour and a half a dozen bounty hunters will be making a beeline for that good-looking guy waiting alone in the cantina for you right now. They'll want to use him for bait."

Darden stopped smiling. "Atton," she breathed, suddenly feeling sick.

* * *

ATTON

Atton leaned against the bar of the cantina, hoping he remembered those forms he'd been drilling every night for the past two weeks well enough to use in combat. The trouble with a lightsaber was it didn't weigh much more than the weight you added to the hilt. You had to track the beam with the Force. For that reason it was much faster than a blaster or a vibroblade; because of its composition it was deadlier. But it was also much, much more difficult to use. He figured he might need to use his tonight, though.

People would hear about Darden's meeting with Visquis. When that happened, all the bounty hunters would scramble to get her away from Visquis, to grab the bounty first. The truce would be off. Atton hadn't told Darden. He figured he'd give her backup, slow down any bounty hunters that came for her, and see her back to the _Ebon Hawk_ once she got out of the meeting. The open door of the cantina looked out over the square towards the docks. The small, dirty window looked over the rest of the Entertainment Promenade. And from Atton's position at the bar, he could see them both perfectly.

Of course, the alcohol was a compensation. Atton couldn't really deny that sometimes he missed drinking himself into a stupor, or getting off with some stupid, scantily clad, willing woman. Not that there were many of _those_ here. The dancers were probably all at the Jekk'Jekk Tarr, and most of the women here were with somebody already. Still.

Atton tipped his hand at the bartender and laid some credits on the bar. "Give me a hit of juma, and keep 'em coming," he said, even though he knew he wouldn't have more than a few. Had to keep sharp.

The bartender slid him a shot glass, and he took it, letting the alcohol burn his throat on the way down. When he put the glass down, he was no longer alone.

Apparently, the Twi'leks weren't all at the Jekk'Jekk Tarr. There they were, just like they'd walked out of Atton's past, dressed like dancers and looking him up and down. But he didn't miss the twin spinning blades each of the two Twi'leks carried, and he knew exactly who these two were.

He didn't say so, though. "Well," he said lightly, downing another shot. "Looks like staying on the ship was a bad idea, after all. That's what I love about Nar Shaddaa: the company. So. I don't think I caught your names. You two work here, or…"

/We are dancers, yes,/ one said.

The second picked up the conversation seamlessly. /Slaves once, now no more./

Yeah. It was the Twin Suns. Atton was suddenly very glad he'd been there when Darden had talked to that ex-bounty hunter, glad he'd committed the profiles of the bounty hunters after her to memory. Otherwise he might've been taken in by these two schuttas. "Yeah? What happened to your master?" he asked lightly.

/He was made deceased,/ one said. /We serve no one but ourselves./

The other looked sharply at her sister, and laid a slender hand on Atton's shoulder. /And you, of course,/ she said hastily. /Tell us: why have you come to the Smuggler's Moon?/

The other took her cue from her sister. She leaned forward and propped her head on her hand, giving Atton a good look right down her low-cut shirt. /Perhaps you are looking for something…perhaps us?/

Atton grimaced and stood up, shaking off the hand of one of them. He slid his credits over the bar to the bartender and widened his stance into the first form of Shii-Cho. "No," he said, without activating his lightsaber. "Actually I'm here protecting someone. Keeping her out of trouble by acting as a distraction for people looking to harm her. Because with assassins like you two running around Nar Shaddaa, I think you're another problem my friend doesn't need."

The Twi'leks stood up, too, in one, fluid graceful movement. /Assassins?/ one said, pouting, as if confused.

/He means one who kills for money,/ the other said. She smiled at Atton, then, a wide predatory smile. /That is not what we do./

The two Twi'leks drew their blades, and Atton activated his lightsaber. He had the satisfaction of seeing the women's eyes widen in surprise. But they held their ground. He had to give them that. The other patrons of the cantina started to murmur. Several of them near the door slipped out unobtrusively. The others drew back against the walls.

/We know you serve the beautiful exile,/ one said. /We only wish her. Submit, or else we shall kill you and find other bait./

Now Atton was the one that was surprised. It hadn't occurred to him that the bounty hunters might go for him and the others first. He cursed inside his head. He of all people should have known that not only was that a possibility, it was likely. He thought he could take these two. But any number of others might be between him and Darden, and him and the ship. "Why don't you two schuttas try it, and we'll see what happens?" he said, feeling out with the Force and sensing the bond of the Twin Suns, where they were likely to move and how they were likely to coordinate to attack him.

/If that is what you wish, then we shall end you./

/It has been too long since we have killed,/ the other agreed.

Atton ducked and darted forward as four blades came at him at once, two from either side. He spun around and swung his lightsaber, shearing off one blade at the hilt. The Twi'lek sisters screamed in fury as one, and if Atton hadn't been looking at the one whose blade he'd broken, he wouldn't have known which one it was. One somersaulted around him, jumped up and over…

_ Dammit. _Atton deactivated his lightsaber, reached out with the Force, and slammed her to the ground, hard. She fell, insensate, and Atton snatched up her remaining blade and cut down the other with a slice to the side. She fell, cursing at him. Tried to get up, but couldn't. Atton looked down at her dispassionately. She'd live. He grabbed her blades, too. If he was lucky they'd be long enough taking care of one another and hiding from the other bounty hunters that might want to take them out now the truce was off that Darden would come back and they could hightail it out of the Refugee Sector for a while.

"Nice meeting you, ladies," he said, and headed out of the cantina for the landing pad.

He ran up the boarding ramp and shouted, "Grab your gear. We need to scatter!"

The crew members of the Ebon Hawk made their way down to him, and he led them out of the ship. They followed out of curiosity, but once out on the pad, Visas stopped.

"What do you mean, Atton? What's going on?"

"The truce between the bounty hunters on Nar Shaddaa is off," Atton explained. "There's going to be a war. A trap in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr is bad enough, but having a hundred bounty hunters on your back is something else. We need to move out, keep 'em guessing."

"The exile was told to meet Visquis alone," Kreia said. "We cannot disrupt their meeting until the alien reveals the information he has."

Atton rolled his eyes. "Yeah, except they're coming after us, not Darden. Dozens of them, making for this ship. All of us have been seen with her at one point or another. They'll want to use us to get to her. I've already fought off two. We need to move."

"We can't let them take the ship again," Mandalore objected.

"No. We must leave some here to defend it," the Handmaiden agreed.

"And they will not all come here," Visas said. "Some of these hunters will be tracking Darden as well. We must warn her."

Atton realized they were right, especially Visas. He frowned, thinking how far they were from the docks. "You're right," he said. "But I'm guessing right now, we're in a lot more trouble than she is."

Bao-Dur's eyes moved then, and he activated his lightsaber. Atton turned. About eight Duros were striding down the landing pad from the square, all carrying blaster rifles. The leader was grinning with his eyes. /Ah, look,/ he said. /Refugees. Here. On the landing pad. Are you lost? Or perhaps you have lost your criminal Jedi exile leader. Perhaps that is more likely, yes, very. I am Azanti Zhug, leader of Zhugs, very powerful, very skilled hunters. It would be very smart of you to tell me where the criminal Jedi has gone. And do speak very quick; my patience is very low./

Atton activated his own lightsaber with Visas. The Handmaiden drew her staff, Mandalore brought up his repeating blaster rifle, Kreia drew her vibroblade, and T3-M4 rolled back and his guns came out. "Anybody here catch that?" Atton called to the others. "All I understood was 'very'."

Azanti Zhug scowled, but Bao-Dur smiled tightly. "I think he wanted us to give up the General to his poorly trained collection of bounty hunters," he said to Atton, without taking his eyes off the Duros.

"Ah. Well that would explain it. Which one do you want?"

Bao-Dur jerked his head at Azanti. "I'll take the stupid one who decided to threaten us rather than shoot us while he had the chance."

* * *

DARDEN

Mira hadn't let her charge right around and head for the cantina. "They're after you, moron," she'd said. "You go stampeding in there, swinging your lightsaber, they'll have what they want and you'll be as dead as you'll be if you go to that meeting with Visquis. No. Your boyfriend could handle himself, even before you gave him a lightsaber, too. He'll get back to the ship and your friends will work out a plan. And that's what we need to do. So come on."

She hadn't explained why she was helping, but Darden had followed her anyway. She had a legitimate point. Mira had led her to the back of the flophouse, through a hidden door to a room slightly bigger than the others she'd seen. She'd turned on the lights, and turned to Darden.

"Here. Now we can talk. This is one of my safe-houses. It's not too pretty to look at, but it keeps away prying eyes."

Darden sniffed, and wrinkled her nose. The place smelled worse than the other rooms in the flophouse, and that was saying something. "It certainly has its own distinctive smell," she said.

Mira sat down on one of the cots and shrugged. "Yeah, well, it's one of those trade-offs. All the freighter exhaust from the docks, you know. Some aliens actually like breathing it, if you can believe it."

Darden shook her head, unable to stop worrying about Atton, and all of her friends on the _Ebon Hawk_. "Okay, Mira. Enough. Why did you bring me here? What do you want?"

Mira held her gaze. "You know Visquis is arranging a trap for you in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr," she said flatly. "No surprise there. Thing is, he intends to cut the bounty hunters out of the loop and deliver you to Goto personally. Not smart, from where I'm standing."

Darden crossed her arms and glared down at the younger woman. "So I'm your bounty. Is that it? Look, you're nice enough. You haven't restrained me or tried to kill me. Believe me, I'm very impressed. But I need to meet with Goto, and I've arranged for Visquis to take me, whether he knows it or not. Gone to quite a lot of trouble to get his attention, actually, and I really can't afford to waste any time, especially if my friends are in trouble." She was feeling kind of lightheaded.

Mira stood. "Look. Use your head. You can meet Goto later. Right now, I'm going to meet with Visquis for you, try to cut a deal and clean up the mess you've made. Be a dear, and step out of the space suit."

Darden tried to shake her head, but couldn't manage it. "I—" she tried to articulate a denial, tried to move.

Mira nodded, and stepped up to her front. She began peeling Darden out of the space suit, deftly and quickly. Darden couldn't raise her hand to stop her. "Yeah," she said. "You really don't have a choice." She lifted Darden out of the space suit. "That smell you noticed when you walked in? It's filtering through your lungs right now. I upped the dosage in case you had some Jedi training to resist poisons. Anybody without olfactory blockers like I have is going to start feeling dizzy—" Darden's knees sagged, and Mira pushed her down onto another cot, smirking. The room started to go black. "—and eventually fall unconscious. Good night, Jedi. I'll be back soon."

* * *

MIRA

Mira was being paid to make sure Goto didn't get the Jedi, but she was happier about this job than she'd been about a lot she'd taken in the past two years or so. Sure, Darden Leona was as dumb as a Gamorrean, or at least, the most arrogant little shrimp Mira'd seen in her life, but she'd done a lot of good in the sector. She didn't know anything about Nar Shaddaa, but hundreds of people's lives were better because of what she'd done here the past two weeks. 'Course, the whole economy of the sector might collapse in another month because of it, but Mira guessed the refugees, who had nothing to begin with, wouldn't notice much. Mira had been watching her, and despite the idiocy, or arrogance, or whatever, of this old friend of Zez-Kai Ell's, she liked her. She was nice. Too nice for Nar Shaddaa, but Mira had to respect it, nonetheless. And she had to admit, too, that Darden had stampeded all around the sector like a bantha with style.

She'd left the safe house with the helmet of the space suit on. She hadn't wanted anyone to see that the woman leaving the flophouse with the space suit was any different than the woman who had gone into the flophouse with the space suit. Though she did fill out the suit better than Darden Leona. For a famous Jedi, Darden wasn't much bigger than a kid.

Mira felt a little nervous, entering the Jekk'Jekk Tarr. She'd never had occasion to get in before, though she'd never forget the time she'd spent in the tunnels underneath the bar. More than that, though, she was curious.

It was a little disappointing, walking in. The Jekk'Jekk Tarr was enormous, yeah, and toxic gases permeated the air. The room was lit with strange-colored green lamps, and Mira could see doors going off to enormous rooms to the left and right. But other than that—it was just a _bar_. Aliens sat at tables and leaned against walls, talking softly, playing pazaak, high on spice or stims or drunk on too much alcohol, and watching the Twi'lek dancing girls as the music played. Mira'd seen the same in dozens of other cantinas across the moon, minus the toxic gas. So after looking around for ten seconds, she went up to the bar and asked the guy tending it in Huttese where Visquis' private lounge was.

The squid-head's lounge _would_ be in the very back of the bar, Mira thought ten minutes later. Her legs were sore from moving the stiff space suit. Still, here she was. She opened the door and walked in.

The door shut behind her. The air here was different. Clearer. The lamps were white, not green or orange. Mira blinked. Then she froze. Hanharr was standing next to the Quarren she'd come to meet. Mira immediately realized her plan probably wouldn't work. But she couldn't back out now. They thought she was Darden Leona.

Indeed, the Quarren bowed. /Ah, you have finally arrived,/ Visquis said. /Please, remove that cumbersome suit. The air here is quite suitable for your kind./

Mira had thought it might be. She set about removing the space suit, her stomach clenched with fear. She prepped her rocket launcher, hoping she wouldn't need it.

/Do not be taken aback by my hospitality,/ Visquis was saying greasily. /I assure you no one will harm you so long as you are my guest and we keep things cordial between us./

Mira stepped out of the space suit and removed her helmet.

/You!/ Hanharr growled, bringing up his dual blades.

"Good eyes, Hanharr," Mira retorted, bringing up her rocket launcher and leveling at him, warning him to keep his distance. "No wonder you're still number two on Nar Shaddaa."

Visquis looked from one to the other of them. /Restrain yourself, Hanharr,/ he said. /There is no need for violence./ He looked at Mira appraisingly. /I gather from your conversation that this is not the Jedi I invited here. It is difficult for me to tell. You humans all look so alike to me. Perhaps you might care to explain to what I owe the honor of this visit? And where I might find the Jedi?/

Mira rolled her eyes. "Yeah, and maybe you'd like to explain why you've decided to backstab your bounty hunters and claim the Jedi for yourself." Visquis wasn't a bounty hunter.

But he looked amused. /Ah, what a prime example of human arrogance,/ he said lazily. /What you know is substantially less than what I know. Otherwise you would not have come. One, everything that goes on in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr is invisible to Goto. It is something that I discovered by accident, and have tested many times since to insure accuracy. Second, I am not acting on Goto's orders. Not anymore. Hanharr and I reached an agreement to deal with Goto altogether…and collect a tidy sum from Vogga./

Mira thought fast. It was a power play. They happened all the time on Nar Shaddaa, but usually lower down on the Exchange ladder. Ever since Goto had taken over the Y'Toub system from the last guy two years back, no one had dared to go up against him. He was just too efficient, and he seemed to know everything. And to sign on with Vogga, the Exchange's number one rival in this system, for someone looking to climb the ranks…

She shook her head. "You're dumber than I thought, Visquis. There's no way Goto won't find out."

/He might. It is possible,/ conceded the Quarren unconcernedly. /You see, Vogga is very tired of having his freighters hijacked by Goto. It is causing his word to have less weight on Nal Hutta. There is a leak in his operations here on Nar Shaddaa. Rather than simply find the leak and eliminate it, his anger has compelled him to eliminate the source of the irritation altogether./ He didn't even hide his pleasure, but then he frowned.

/Unfortunately, Goto is very careful about showing himself to others,/ he said. /Vogga's employee, Hanharr discovered this when he attended the recent gathering on Goto's yacht./

Mira had heard about that. Goto had summoned all the bounty hunters, or representatives of all the bounty hunters, in the system together, and told them that he'd be enforcing the guild law about common targets while Darden was on Nar Shaddaa. But Visquis was still talking.

/It is always holograms with Goto. Always. But I have a suspicion that Goto will reveal himself to a Jedi. When that happens, that is when I intend to strike. Unfortunately,/ he said, his voice turning more acidic now, /It is clear he will not reveal himself to a two-credit bounty hunter with the audacity to try and strike a deal with me. So please: tell me where the Jedi is. I am not in the mood for negotiation./

Mira rolled her eyes. "Yeah, right. I'm not telling you where she is. It's my bounty, and that means she's under my protection."

Visquis sighed. Being a Quarren, it meant his beak clacked and his tentacles burbled a little. /How predictable,/ he said. /Very well./

He squeezed something in his hand, and Mira was fried by an electric beam from the ceiling. She screamed as the beam danced across her skin. But as her body gave out under the strain and she collapsed into unconsciousness, her first thought was not pain, but anger that she hadn't thought that the lounge might be booby trapped.

* * *

DARDEN

Darden forced her eyes open and looked around. She was still in Mira's "safe house", but the smell—the toxic gas—was gone from the air. She was alone, lying on the cot. Her pack and lightsaber were still beside her. She tried to grab them, but couldn't. Her skin was tingling, though, and her muscles ached, so she knew feeling was coming back to her body.

Something moved over to her right, and Darden realized she wasn't alone. Not quite. "Mira?" she said, or tried to say. It actually came out more like "Mrrrr?" Even her mouth wasn't functioning properly. She sounded like she was very drunk.

The somebody moved, and it wasn't Mira. The man moved into her line of vision. Darden widened her eyes. He was dressed in loose brown civilian clothes, much like her own gray quasi-robes back at the _Ebon Hawk_. Three sizes too big and obviously chosen to make people look away from him, and perhaps not notice the lightsaber beneath his shirt. His brown hair was too long, and streaked with gray that hadn't been there ten years ago. But the serious brown eyes, dangling earrings, and enormously bushy mustache were unmistakable. Master Zez-Kai Ell.

"I know you can hear me," he said in his hoarse, low voice. "The numbness you feel should be wearing off soon, but not before we've spoken."

"Mrr Zzzklll!" Darden said.

"When I first heard you were on Nar Shaddaa, I didn't quite believe it," Zez-Kai Ell said. "I didn't think anyone could track me here, but I see I underestimated you. I have watched you as you have traveled the Refugee Sector. I have seen what you have done. What I refused to do. Even exiled, you are more of a Jedi than I."

Darden's muscles started twitching. She managed to move her right arm a couple of centimeters, but still could not raise her hand to shake the Jedi Master's. And he misinterpreted movement and stepped back into the shadow.

"If anything," he said, "Know that your actions have convinced me I can stand by and watch no longer while the Exchange closes its grip on this sector."

"Mster, whhait…" Darden slurred.

"I know a young woman went to meet with Visquis in your place," Zez-Kai Ell said, and Darden realized that Mira had to be _his_ agent, not Goto's. "He will not negotiate with her. He will kill her. I intend to rescue her. I will return shortly…or not at all. If you have come to this moon for answer…or for revenge, then you will follow me. For if I fail, then you will be denied both."

He let himself out by the secret door just as Darden was able to bring her hand up at last. But he didn't stop. And then he was gone.

Darden swore, realizing without pleasure that the dirty word came out clearly now. She grabbed her pack and lightsaber and waited for the rest of her body to wake up from the toxin Mira had subjected it to. She wanted to be mobile when she subjected it to more.

* * *

MIRA

Mira woke up in a large, circular room overlooked by a circular, red-tinted window. She jumped to her feet, ignoring her still-stinging skin. She drew her blaster from her hip and noticed, reassured, that her rocket launcher was still strapped to her wrist. But there were corpses littering the floor of wherever she was, and that was less reassuring. She was in some sort of arena. A speaker crackled, and Mira recognized Visquis' voice with terror.

/Ah, Mira/ he said. /I am pleased that my traps did not cause any permanent scarring. It turns out your Jedi friend has decided to come here anyway, in search of you. How touching. It will not be long before the Jedi lies unconscious in the tunnels, and I will send the Ubese to hunt her down./

Mira realized she must be in some sort of base, along the tunnels underneath the Jekk'Jekk Tarr. She clenched her jaw. She'd got out of here before. She could do it again. But Darden Leona? Had she actually been idiot enough to track Mira from the Jekk'Jekk Tarr by herself? Now Mira would have to get out of here and save the Jedi.

But Visquis had plans for her. /But in the meantime, as boss of this sector,/ he was saying, /I must pronounce judgment on those that have crossed me—and reward those who serve me./ One of two doors in the arena opened, and Hanharr walked in, eyes gleaming. The door shut behind him. /Mira, I believe you know this one,/ Visquis gloated. /As he knows you. Hanharr, I have heard tales of how you have ripped humans in half. Indulge me. I have left her armed. I do not want her to die too quickly./

Hanharr circled her, savoring his power. /Here we are,/ he growled softly, /Far from the eyes of other bounty hunters. Now, my debt will be ended./

That damn life debt! How the monster had twisted it to mean he had to kill her Mira had no idea. She cocked her blaster. "That does it, Hanharr!" she warned him. "I don't want to kill you, but I will if you don't get out of my way."

/Your threats mean nothing to me,/ Hanharr said, closing in. /You do not have the strength to kill, little girl. There is no one coming to save you. Your Jeedai friend is trapped in the tunnels of this place, and soon, dead. If you want your bounty, then go ahead and rescue your Jeedai—but first, you must go through me./

He twirled his blades and attacked, an eight-foot wall of fur and claw and muscle, eyes glittering madly in the dim light. Mira sidestepped, fired a bolt into his shoulder, and ran.

It wouldn't stop him. She knew it wouldn't. Hanharr was crazy, and almost nothing could stop him when he lost control. It had taken three high-grade plasma mines last time. So Mira kept running, zigzagging and ducking blades and every now and then sending a stun rocket or a blaster bolt back into him over her shoulder.

She ran around that arena until her side ached and her lungs burned, but Hanharr was slowing. Blood from his wounds was streaked around the floor. Mira had to avoid slipping in it. It slowed her down. One of his swords glanced off her plated shoulder, and she thanked the heavens she'd had the sense to armor plate her jacket and layer it with ballistic shielding a few months ago. She twirled, fired one last time right up into Hanharr's gut, and he fell. He didn't get up, just lay there, gasping, and Mira felt a sinking in her gut as she realized he was dying. She turned towards the door he'd come from, walked up to it. But it was locked.

The speaker crackled, and Visquis' voice came over it, flat and displeased. /That was unexpected,/ he said. /Still, I have the Jedi. And now I have no need to pay Hanharr for his services. I have other entertainments for you, I think. I am going to go check on the Jedi. I will leave you here, with the payment I intended for Hanharr./

Another door opened, and six kath hound came running out, lean, mean, and ready for the kill. Mira rolled her eyes. But they weren't sentient, at least. Hanharr might've had trouble with them, what with his melee weapons. But Mira gunned them down before they ever got to her, and set to looking about the arena for a way out.

She found some mines on the corpses around the pit, but better yet, she found a key card on one of them—the old hound master, apparently. Killed and chewed up by the dogs he'd tended. The key card opened the door Hanharr had come in, the one that led to the rest of the complex.

Mira walked carefully through the complex, dodging the odd Ubese guard and tranking those two or three that saw her. But most of 'em were busy in another part of the base, probably prepping for Darden. Mira didn't hear anything, though, so she figured Darden was still in the tunnels. She found a terminal a few rooms away from the arena and use it to call up the tunnel cameras.

She blinked in surprise. Darden _was_ in the tunnels, but she wasn't unconscious. She was standing outside the door to this complex, upright and functional, though rather paler than she had been when they'd met. She was apparently trying to hack into the door, and not having much luck. Her straight eyebrows were drawn together and she was glaring, clearly frustrated.

Mira had no idea why she wasn't unconscious. The tunnels beneath the Jekk'Jekk Tarr were flooded with the same cyanogen gas that was in the bar, but Darden looked fine.

"We gotta get out of here," Mira muttered. She checked the stats on the terminal, and noticed that in the room behind her and to the left, there was an emergency switch that would open the door to the complex. She shut the terminal down and headed for it.

When she flipped the switch, however, she knew she'd underestimated Visquis again. She heard the door to the complex open a few rooms over, alright, heard the hum of an active lightsaber, but she also heard an alarm blare out, and six guards poured through the door immediately. Mira held up her hands. She couldn't fight off all six of them. She swore as the guards forced her hands behind her back and chucked her in a room. They left, and Mira heard the door click locked behind them. She struggled at her cuffs angrily. Her bounty was probably being wrapped up like she was right now, and she was stuck here, waiting for Visquis to find the leisure time to come execute her properly.

* * *

HALF AN HOUR LATER

There'd been a lot of noise through the complex the past half hour. Whatever Mira's opinion of the Jedi's mental faculties, she couldn't say she wasn't a fighter. Well, Zez-Kai Ell had told her Darden Leona had served in the Mandalorian Wars. Mira had been wondering if she'd open the door, if maybe she'd be put in the embarrassing position of having tried to rescue someone but end up being rescued, instead.

But when the door opened, it wasn't Darden Leona. It wasn't Visquis. It was three of Darden's friends, instead. The Zabrak, the Miraluka, and the good looking human guy Darden had called 'Atton'. All three of them were carrying active lightsabers. Right, she was training these three.

Mira shook her head in amazement. "How _are_ you people running the tunnels underneath the Jekk'Jekk Tarr without environment suits?" she demanded. "You all ought to be passed out in the maze suffocated by the gases. Well—at least you ought to," she added to the human and the Miraluka, whose bodies couldn't process the cyanogen gases. She didn't know about the Iridonian. She hadn't run into too many Zabrak on Nar Shaddaa.

"There's a Force thing," said the man. "I'm Atton Rand. This is Visas Marr and Bao-Dur. Who are you and what'd you do to end up here?"

He didn't deactivate his lightsaber, nor did the Zabrak he'd called Bao-Dur, but Visas Marr did.

"I sense no threat from this woman," she said in a low, throaty voice. She slipped around behind Mira and released her from the cuffs with cold, thin, scarred hands.

"Thanks," Mira said, shaking her arms out. "Saves me the trouble of breaking out of those." She nodded at Atton. "Name's Mira. I've been watching you guys stumble around this moon for a while, causing trouble. Thought I'd step in and lend a hand before your friend got herself killed, only they caught me first."

Atton's eyes flashed, and he deactivated his lightsaber. "Do you know where Darden is?" he demanded. There was a desperate note in his voice, and Mira regarded him. Atton Rand had nearly always been with Darden Leona, these two weeks she'd been watching them. If she'd been looking to take down the Jedi and wanted bait, she would've picked him, and judging from the way Darden had reacted when she'd told her Atton might be in danger and the way Atton was looking now, she would've been right.

Mira rubbed her wrists and checked her blaster, still on her hip. "She's here," she said. "Or ought to be. I let her in half an hour ago, before they caught me again and locked me up here, and I've been hearing her tear up this base from here ever since." She jerked her head. "C'mon. Visquis will have retreated to that pit he had me in. It's the most defensible area of this base, and he's probably booby trapped it like he booby trapped his lounge. She'll be there, if anywhere."

She started forward, and Atton, Visas, and Bao-Dur followed her. "How'd you get captured in the first place?" Bao-Dur asked in voice that was surprisingly soft coming from the muscular, rough-skinned Zabrak. "How did you get mixed up with the General, if you're not a bounty hunter?"

Atton shook his head. "She is a bounty hunter, Bao-Dur. Best on Nar Shaddaa, or so the word is. But so far I hadn't heard she was gunning for Darden."

"I don't _gun_ for anyone," Mira said acidly. "I figure if you're any good as a bounty hunter, you don't need to shoot." She opened her mouth, then closed it. Zez-Kai Ell wanted to talk to Darden eventually, but she wasn't sure he wanted anyone else to know who he was or where he was hiding out. "I want my bounty," she said, instead of telling the whole truth. "And I found her before Visquis. He had no right to capture her and cut the bounty hunters out of the credits, and probably kill one of the last Jedi in the galaxy in the bargain." She shook her head. "He took me down like an amateur, though," she said irately. "I'd never been inside the Jekk'Jekk Tarr. I didn't know about his traps. But now I've got his number. They won't catch me—or her—the same way twice."

* * *

**A/N: There we are. This is the first chapter where I've really needed to switch POV a lot to keep up with the plot. Actually, the next few chapters it's going to be necessary to spend a lot of time outside of Darden's head. A lot of action'll go on, and it'll be more important to see how others relate to Darden than how Darden thinks about what she's doing. **

**Coming Soon: Darden meant to get noticed enough to get an audience with Goto and demand the reasoning for the bounty he placed on her head. But she did **_**not **_**mean to be taken prisoner and end up trapped in orbit above Nar Shaddaa on an empty yacht full of droids and traps and holograms. Darden finds herself in the undignified position of damsel-in-distress, and the crew of the **_**Ebon Hawk**_** must coordinate to get her back from Goto the crime lord in the middle of a bounty hunter war. Things won't go smoothly, though, and by the time the carnage is over and done with, Nar Shaddaa will never be the same. **

**Read and Review, and May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	21. Rescues and Reunions

**Disclaimer: All characters and plotlines go to their proper owners. No copyright infringement intended by this purely recreational piece of fanfiction.**

* * *

XX.

Rescues and Reunions

DARDEN

TEN MINUTES EARLIER

Darden had fought her way through Visquis' base under the Jekk'Jekk Tarr, looking everywhere she went for Mira or Zez-Kai Ell. But she ended up finding Visquis. He was in some sort of dueling arena, littered with corpses. Darden saw several kath hounds, several humans, and a Wookiee. She didn't know why Visquis had come here, but he was waiting for her.

/You have finally arrived,/ he said. He was excreting more mucus than Darden thought that Quarrens usually did, and his tentacles were twitching nervously. /Both much sooner, yet much later than I'd hoped./

Darden kept her lightsaber activated, and she stood before him in the Makashi opening position. "Yeah. I don't follow other people's plans very well. Not since my exile. But hey, I'm being rude. You wanted to see me. So talk."

/Very well, let us dispense with the pleasantries,/ Visquis said. /You are, after all, human. Based on your actions alone, I take it you are not familiar with the organization I serve, or my responsibilities. I run the Refugee Sector. I decide what happens here. I control the flows and currents of this sector. You have caused a great deal of trouble for the Exchange here on Nar Shaddaa, and I wish to know why./

"The Exchange here on Nar Shaddaa's caused a great deal of trouble for me off-world," Darden answered him, mocking his tone. "I wished to know why, so I had to get your attention somehow."

/You have had it for quite some time,/ Visquis assured her. /I must admit, once you were on Nar Shaddaa, you became difficult to track, but that's what bounty hunters are for. It is curious, though—/ he said, in a different tone, musing. /We have been applying pressure on the humans in this sector for a long time, yet only now do you show yourself./

Darden blinked, and fought to control the anger that rose at his statement. "Was that another trap, then?" she asked flatly. "I hope you can stop now that we've spoken. I'd hate to have to go through all that again."

/What makes you so certain you will have another opportunity?/ Visquis queried, his tentacles twitching faster as he got angry himself. /Jedi arrogance. You are slow to act when danger threatens, yet so sure you have saved these people. You are like all the rest of your kind. Still—if you are only a recent arrival, that would lend some validity to the rumors of another Jedi being here on Nar Shaddaa. Fortunately for me, I require just the one./

"I'm listening," Darden said. "What's up with the bounty, Visquis?"

Visquis gurgled a laugh. /Oh, you mistake me. I was not the one that put the original bounty on you. We all have our Masters, you know. My soon-to-be-deceased boss Goto is the one who placed the monumental sum of credits upon your head. Your price is so high that any bounty hunter that captured you would be able to buy their own planet. You must have angered Goto greatly for him to hunt you so. And that is why you are the perfect bait, and why I will bring you to Goto, then kill him./

Gas began to arise from the floor, but Kreia had taught Darden how to handle it in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr. Darden didn't know why Kreia hadn't taught her in Mira's safe house, but now she was able to stop breathing, using the Force to renew the air in her lungs and allow it to sustain her.

She looked at Visquis, smirked.

/The gas…/ he stammered. /It isn't…you…/

The door behind them opened. Darden whirled. Visquis was unarmed, but the Ubese at the door were, and they were sworn to kill all Jedi. Much like the Sith, except they didn't wield the Force and there were hardly any of them left in the galaxy.

/I order you all:/ Visquis said to the dozen or so Ubese guards. /attack the Jedi!/

They ran forward, and Darden brought up her saber, but they ran right past her and stood between her and Visquis.

/You all, attack the Je—/ he cut off. /You all, you never truly worked for me,/ he said, dumbfounded.

A speaker crackled, and a tinny, ironic, metallic voice sounded in the pit. "While the Jedi remains on Nar Shaddaa my eyes shall watch her."

/Goto!/ cried Visquis. /I didn't…I wasn't…Please, take the Jedi. I offer the human as a gift, freely, as I would my own…/

"Enough," came the voice of Goto. The Ubese raised their weapons as one and brought them down into Visquis. Darden heard the squish. Visquis fell to the floor, and Darden turned away.

She glared at the ceiling. "Hey! I wasn't done talking to him!" she called out.

The Ubese stood still, but the speaker crackled. "What an amusing Jedi specimen you are," Goto said.

Then a beam of energy came down from the ceiling and struck Darden. She was electrified, and she screamed out as it fried her into unconsciousness. She didn't feel the Ubese pick her up and take her out of the arena to a speeder, which took her to a shuttle, which took her into orbit.

* * *

ATTON

TEN MINUTES LATER

Mira knelt by the oozing body of Visquis the Quarren, bled out from a dozen different stab wounds. She frowned, and stood. "Yeah. I thought that might be how it played out," she said. "Visquis is dead, and your Jedi friend's gone. That means Goto found out he'd been cheated, and now he has her on his yacht. Let's get out of here. I know a place we can regroup and think."

Because Atton didn't know what else to do, he followed her dumbly. Mira led the three of them out of the complex and through the tunnels, though she nabbed one of the Ubese environment suits to do so. She knew the tunnels well enough that when she led them out it was out by the docks, and not into the Jekk'Jekk Tarr. It was just as well. Between Darden and the three of them, there'd been enough trouble in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr that they were probably still dragging out the bodies, living and dead, to the hospital. Atton didn't really want to have to hurt anyone else. Darden wouldn't like it.

Darden. Atton's brain buzzed with one useless, desperate idea after another. She'd got to Goto, alright, just like she planned. But they'd never planned for her to go a prisoner, or at least, not a real one, without any backup. They still didn't know what Goto wanted with this bounty. What if he killed her? Or worse, what if he didn't? What if he did some of the things to her that Atton had used to do to the Jedi _he _captured?

He was silent as Mira led them to the back of the flophouse and through a secret door. The others looked to him for cues. Or maybe that was just nervousness. Hell if he knew.

Mira shut the door and sat on one of three or four cots in the room. "So," she said. "Visquis is gone, but Goto has your friend. And that means no bounty for me."

Atton shook his head, finding his voice at last. "There's gotta be a way to get to Goto, to get her back." He started pacing, and he felt Visas touch his mind, gently concerned. Bao-Dur watched him, grim-faced.

"The only way to reach Goto is if we had a Jedi," Mira said. "But now he's got your friend, he doesn't have anybody else he wants captured…"

Atton rounded on the redhead. "He's gotta be around here somewhere," he all but snarled.

"I don't know," she said, raising her hands defensively. "His yacht has a cloaking device. He's the one that arranges the meetings on his ship, and until then, he can't be found. Trust me, if anyone knew how to track his ship, all the angry bounty hunters that have been gunning for Darden Leona would be there demanding an explanation, and all the ones that have been working for Vogga the Hutt would be trying to take him down, too."

Atton sat down on one of the cots. "We can't just give up," he said.

Mira focused on him. "You're the pilot, right? Listen. If you were hunting for Goto's yacht, your freighter would be flying blind…well, unless it was one of Vogga the Hutt's cargo ships. Then it would be snapped up by Goto pretty quick."

Bao-Dur's head came up suddenly. "How does Goto know which ships are working for Vogga?" he asked.

Mira shrugged. "Probably does it by tracking their transponder codes, but no one knows how he's getting them."

Atton looked at Bao-Dur, and Bao-Dur nodded. A plan had begun to form in Atton's mind. "We've been meaning to change our ship's transponder codes," he said slowly. "As is, it's a beacon for every bounty hunter in the galaxy. If we could get a hold of one of Vogga's transponder codes, maybe we could be a different kind of beacon."

Mira's eyes went out of focus for a moment as she thought it over. "I guess that could work. You'd need to get the codes first, then retrofit your ship so it had the right transponder signal…"

"I know a Sullistan off the landing pad," Bao-Dur interrupted. "We worked together during the Mandalorian Wars."

Mira nodded. "Fine, but Vogga's shut down the droid warehouse with the codes until he can find out who's been leaking them. You'd have to be a droid to get in there."

Atton shrugged. "We've got a droid. That tin can's been taking it easy too long, anyway. We could send him in."

"Not directly, you couldn't," Mira objected. "You people have a reputation on this moon. If you show up to Vogga's warehouse with a droid to sell, someone's gonna smell a rat."

Visas' head turned towards Atton. "Did not that pazaak player claim he'd like to do such a marvelous player a favor the other day? The Champ, he called himself. Perhaps we could take T3-M4 to him, and he could take the droid to Vogga?"

Atton leapt off of the cot and seized Bao-Dur and Visas around the shoulders. "That's it! Just as long as we get her back. Let's head to the _Ebon Hawk_—we'll get the little trash compactor and take him to the pazaak den."

* * *

TWO HOURS LATER

Atton was just finishing the cold sandwich Mira had made him when T3-M4 rolled into the safe house. Atton stood up. "There you are," he growled. "What kept you?"

The droid whistled something about other droids in the warehouse. Atton still didn't understand a lot of his beeping. Didn't care to. "Yeah. I know there's droids in the warehouse," he grumbled. "So what?"

T3-M4 beeped that Canderous Ordo had prepped the _Ebon Hawk_ for launch like Visas and Bao-Dur had told him to, Bao-Dur was waiting for them in Tienn Tubb's shop, and he had the transponder codes and a blank card, so why were they standing around? They needed to get Darden back, and then T3-M4 could tell _her _about the weird droids in Vogga's warehouse, if Atton wasn't interested.

Atton rolled his eyes. "Fine. Let's go."

Mira had been sitting across from him, fiddling with her rocket launcher and watching him quietly all this time. Now she stood. "Wait—what's going on?"

"He's got the codes," Atton told her shortly. "We're going to change the ID signature of the Ebon Hawk so we can get to Goto's yacht that way. See ya."

"No way," Mira said, crossing her arms. "I want in."

Atton snorted. "Yeah, right. Thanks for dinner and all, but you wanted to sell Darden to Goto in the first place."

"Yeah," Mira retorted, "And I don't like being cheated. Trust me, Goto's yacht is going to have some pretty heavy defenses. You're going to need all the help you can get."

Atton rolled his eyes and turned away. He opened the door, and then stopped, peering out. He swore and ducked back into the safe house as the bolts fired. He locked the door.

"They've tracked me here," he said angrily. "Are they having trouble at the _Ebon Hawk_?" he asked the droid.

T3-M4 beeped a negative.

Mira clicked her tongue. "They won't know where your friend's at, yet," she said. "Minus her, they're gonna be after you." She didn't explain. She didn't have to. Atton knew damn well he'd been the one crew member most in company with Darden. If he'd been hunting Jedi, he'd come after him, too. "What are we dealing with?"

"Gand," Atton told her, realizing he could hardly refuse her help now, across the square from the Ebon Hawk. "Saw 'em in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr. They aren't so tough, but there's just so _many_."

"The whole colony up and left some Mid-Rim world to come here," Mira said, grabbing a green leather pack and shoving a change of clothes, a couple of ration bars, a canteen and two extra power packs in it.

"Colony." Atton said. "Great."

"They haven't done any bounties until your friend showed up. Guess whatever price is on her head is enough to wake them up."

Atton glanced at her sharply. "You don't know?"

She didn't look at him. "There's hundreds of them. We're not getting out of here to your landing pad without a fight." She cocked her blaster pistol, primed her rocket launcher, and shielded. "You ready?"

Atton shielded, too. For whatever reason, this weird bounty hunter woman had decided to join up with them. For whatever reason, she wanted to protect Darden, too. He wasn't in a position to say no, and Darden wouldn't, anyway. He activated his lightsaber.

"Are you?"

And they left the safe house and plunged into the fray.

* * *

MIRA

Mira felt sick and weirdly elated at the same time. They were caught in Goto's tractor beam, and in ten minutes or less they'd be boarded. It had been a nonstop bloody fight to get this far, and there would only be more fighting. Killing, too. Mira had killed more people today than she had in the last five years put together. But the worst part was she hadn't been bothered by it. She'd just reacted, caught up in the rush of finding the Jedi she'd lost.

The dynamics of the crew of the Ebon Hawk were weird, too. Everyone seemed more afraid of the old kinrath-faced lady than they were of the big Mandalorian, and though that Miraluka moved like she was the most experienced Jedi student of the lot, Atton had taken charge and nobody was arguing.

As they'd gotten closer and closer to Goto's yacht he'd gained more and more confidence, looked less and less like a nervous wreck. Now he turned to Mira. "It's gonna be rough on the yacht, but exactly how rough will it be, Mira? What sort of defenses does Goto have on his ship?"

"I don't do contracts for Goto, so I've never been aboard," Mira explained, "But I've heard talk, yeah. Visquis did his plotting in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr because Goto doesn't know what's going on there, but it's pretty much the only place he can't see. He's tapped into the signals on Nar Shaddaa somehow. You can expect the second someone steps off this ship and onto that yacht he'll know it. He likes droids. There'll be droids. Lots of them. Probably turrets. Explosives, maybe. Goto's careful enough that he'll have made sure that if he's attacked, his attackers will have lots of nasty surprises to deal with."

"Right," Bao-Dur said, frowning. "I can handle droids and turrets, I think."

"You're better with them than any of us," Atton said.

"If we take this Goto down, we might impact his cloaking device," said the Mandalorian, whom Mira had heard referred to as both Canderous and Mandalore, amazingly. "And then every bounty hunter in the Y'Toub system will be on top of us, either for Goto or Leona."

"So we'll put a guard on the ship," Atton said. "And only send a few of us in for Darden. We'll send Bao-Dur-"

"Me, too," Mira interrupted him. Up till now the only thing she'd done was blunder around like an amateur. When she reported back to Zez-Kai Ell, she wanted to feel like she'd earned the credits he'd paid her. She had ethics, after all. "If there are mines, I can guarantee you I can handle 'em better than anyone on this bucket. And if it comes to talking fast—"

"Why do you want to save her, though?" Atton asked. Mira could just tell he'd been waiting to ask that for hours. "What's in this for you?"

"She's my bounty," Mira retorted.

The Echani girl who no one had named yet spoke up for the first time. "You said you did not work for Goto, though."

"The huntress has another employer," said the old lady, Kreia, portentously, looking at Mira from beneath her brown hood with those creepy blind eyes as if she could see right through her.

Mira looked away, reluctant even now to betray her employer, though from the way these people acted Darden Leona wasn't the type that would turn around and run through her friend. They wouldn't be so set on getting her back if she were.

But Atton looked hard at Mira, and something cleared in his face. "You're with that Jedi we're looking for, aren't you?" he accused. "Keeping an eye on Darden for Zez-Kai Ell."

Mira crossed her arms and glared at him. "He wasn't sure what she wanted, alright? Neither was I. Your friend has reason enough to want him dead."

"She doesn't," Bao-Dur objected.

"Yeah. I know. And I was gonna take her to him, but then she got herself captured. And you need me to get her back and find him for you."

She stared off with Atton for a few seconds, then he nodded. "Alright," he said. "You'll go with Bao-Dur, then." He hesitated, looked away. "I should stay with the _Hawk_," he said to himself, reluctantly. "Make sure she's ready to fly when we're done here."

There was a silence, and the ship shook as it docked with Goto's yacht. But then the Echani girl shook her head. "We shall stay with the Ebon Hawk and guard her and keep her ready to fly," she said. "You should accompany Bao-Dur and this woman, Atton. Yours will be the first face the exile wishes to see after her ordeal." She nodded curtly and actually waved them away. The old lady scowled under her hood, but no one actually argued. Atton's ears turned red, but he grabbed his lightsaber and started towards the exit ramp.

Mira followed at a distance with Bao-Dur.

"So—Atton and the Jedi," she whispered. "Are they an item, or-?"

Bao-Dur shrugged. "It's none of _my_ business," he said, quickening his pace to catch up with Atton. Mira made a face at his back.

The exit ramp screeched down and Atton led them through the airlock and aboard Goto's yacht. Mira felt a delicious excitement, almost exactly like the first time she'd brought in a bounty eight years ago, sixteen years old and green as a Rodian. The excitement of taking on an impossible challenge, going up against impossible odds, and _winning_. Somehow, she could sense that Darden Leona was still alive on this vessel. So could the others. Bao-Dur straightened and his mouth quirked up, and Atton relaxed all at once.

"She's here," he said. "He hasn't hurt her."

Then he tensed again, and Mira followed his line of sight to the other end of the room they were in. She groaned. The HK-50 assassin droids were relatively new to Nar Shaddaa, but Mira had had enough contact with them for a lifetime, despite running into them only once. "Not you!" she cried.

"Announcement:" one of the three durasteel droids announced. "We seek to make Goto aware of our services…allowing us to facilitate communication and terminate hostilities throughout the galaxy. If that means blowing up planets, slaughtering entire species, or allying ourselves with the Sith, then that is the logical choice."

"Your logic is the craziest crazy I've ever heard," Atton said. "And that's saying something. Let's do this."

* * *

DARDEN

TEN MINUTES EARLIER

When Darden woke up she was lying on the metallic floor of a large, airy room. She recognized both by the stars out of the long window and the artificial quality of the gravity that she was in space, but was relieved to see the beehive activity around the moon below that revealed she wasn't _far_ in space. She was orbiting Nar Shaddaa.

She climbed to her feet, wincing. Her pack and lightsaber were lying right next to her, and she picked them up. She checked her limbs and clothes. Physically, she was fine. Except for a slight tingle in her skin and an aching in muscles that had convulsed some time ago in pain, she was uninjured. She looked through her pack. Nothing had been taken. She switched her lightsaber on. The silver blade slid out with a familiar hum. It still worked.

So. She was kidnapped, but neither restrained nor seriously harmed. She looked around. Two black orbs hovered near the window. Droids. They were an unusual design, not unlike that of Bao-Dur's remote, except much larger and more heavily armored, with sharp, strange looking instruments that Darden thought looked a bit more deadly than the remote's cutting laser. The droids regarded her with large, red, visual sensors. Their hover fields whirred with a sinister hum, but otherwise they were completely silent.

There was a console on the wall to her right, and a door behind her. Darden shrugged, and started over to the console, but one of the droids floated between her and it. A red pinpoint of light appeared on her chest. She held up her hands and stepped back.

There was another hum, and a hologram came up from the center of the room. It turned to look at her. The hologram was of a portly human man with squinty eyes and an oddly trimmed brown beard, dressed in unassuming and neat clothes. "Mmm," the hologram said in the tinny, ironic voice Darden immediately recognized as belonging to Goto. "I was expecting someone taller. I hope you are not in too much pain to hear my words and understand them. I am Goto, one of the officials representing a percentage of non-sanctioned trading here in both the Y'Toub system and Republic space. And I had a question for you. Are you a Jedi?"

Darden folded her arms, annoyed. "Of a sort," she said. "You'd be surprised how often I get the 'wow, thought you'd be taller', thing."

"I seriously doubt that," Goto said through the hologram. "It is good that you are a Jedi. I am already wasting precious minutes in granting you this audience, and I do not wish to waste any more. I have gone to considerable expense and effort to bring you here. It is because I have a job for you."

Darden was even more annoyed by this. "Oh, yeah, and putting a price on my head so high that every bounty hunter in the galaxy's been after me was the best way to get my attention," she snapped.

"Perhaps it was not," Goto conceded, "But I am not in the habit of asking for things. And you were so difficult to find, even after that small incident on Peragus." He paused, before continuing. "There is something important to me I need protected. The Republic. It is…broken. What happened on Peragus has set in motion events that I can no longer control. Not to be melodramatic, but I fear it has broken the galaxy irrevocably. This has occupied much of my attention, and there seems to be no predictable way to resolve the situation."

Darden was intrigued despite herself. This Exchange crime lord in the heart of Hutt space was interested in the fate of the Republic? But all she said was, "I was actually working on that, before you zapped me and dragged me up here."

Goto ignored her. "In one standard month," he said, "The Republic will collapse. Not due to war, or succession, but because it lacks the infrastructure to support itself. It is unknown to all but a few, but the Sith won the Jedi Civil War. Even with their supposed victory, the war left the Republic on the verge of collapse. Rather than remain and help solidify the Republic, however, Revan chose to leave known space. A frustrating turn of events, as a rallying figurehead could have done much to restore order."

Darden bowed politely. "Thank you for the information," she said. "But what the hell do you want me to do about it?"

"There is something moving in the galaxy," Goto droned on. "Beyond the ability of my instruments to detect or predict. I believe it to be a legacy of the Sith, but I have been unable to determine the source. Whatever this presence is, it is staging strikes at key figures in the Republic; and through some unknown means, it is causing the destruction of worlds. Katarr, a Miraluka world in the Mid-Rim, was one such place. I have reason to suspect there was a gathering of Jedi on that world when it was rendered lifeless. I cannot find any pattern in these attacks, and it is a source of frustration to me. There is some clue, however, that the Jedi are linked to these attacks, or that the targets are significant in some way I have yet to discover."

Darden frowned, thinking of Visas. "I have some idea what you're talking about," she admitted reluctantly. "And perhaps more information than you do. As I said, I'm working on it. I don't want the Jedi wiped out."

"You misunderstand me," the hologram said coldly. "I do not wish to stop the Sith any more than I wish to stop the Jedi. It is simply important to me that the in-fighting amongst these Jedi religious branches be resolved so the galaxy may be put back together. I do not care which one triumphs; I only want the universe to settle down for a while, catch its breath. All these constant crises are getting somewhat repetitive."

Darden could hardly slap a hologram. So she laughed, bitterly. It hurt to laugh that way, but she didn't want to cry. "So says the spider looking down on the galaxy from his mighty web," she said acidly. "Look, why do you care?"

Goto paused. "You could say I am something of a patriot," he said finally, with a strange intonation Darden couldn't quite get. "Although I was unable to serve during the troubles with the Mandalorians or against the aggressors known as Malak and Revan, I am able and willing to serve now. The problem is I can find no side to choose. Both are hidden from me as they seem to be hiding from each other. Irritating. It is like a dejarik board where neither player can see the other, nor see all the pieces. It is not a fair game, an equitable game."

Darden had had precious little patience with Goto coming in, given that he'd put an enormous bounty on her head. Now that he'd kidnapped her and she'd actually spoken to her, she had even less. She had no desire to deal with this calculating criminal, this machine, even if he did want to help the Republic. "Then maybe you should try pazaak," she said coolly.

"Pazaak bores me," Goto replied. "I often suspect my opponent of cheating. I prefer predictable games, such as galactic economics."

Darden laughed again, incredulous this time. "Right. Look. I'm trying to save the galaxy," she told him. "That's all I've wanted to do from the minute I left Peragus."

"Excellent," Goto said, with only the slightest pleased intonation to his general monotone. "It really is in your best interests, you know. There is no margin for error when I say that these Sith seek to murder you and all Jedi, everywhere. They have been quite efficient. And when they dispose of you, there will be nothing left to stop them, and the galaxy will fall under their influence."

Darden sighed. "I know," she said. "If you _let me go and stop chasing me_, I'll try and stop them for you, okay?"

There was an awkward pause. Then the hologram said, "Ah, well, there is where we are at cross-purposes. I cannot set you free. You have a tendency to cause dangerous repercussions wherever you go, and I would rather keep those to a minimum. The galaxy really is a fragile place right now." At that, an alarm began to blare, but Goto kept talking at her. "The Republic needs stability to survive, prosper, and grow. Whether it is led by the Sith or supported by the Jedi is of no consequence to me."

"So you're just going to…keep me?" Darden said. "What's that alarm?"

Goto's hologram flickered. "It is the proximity alarm," he said after a moment. "We are under attack. Somehow, your allies have found you." Darden's heart leapt. The _Ebon Hawk_? Here? She felt out with the Force, and indeed, she sensed her friends. Kreia, strongly, feeling self-satisfied, confident that they would soon meet again. Deaf to her and to the Force, but still there, determined to protect Revan's ship, Mandalore. Visas, meditating on the success of the team they had sent aboard this vessel, Goto's yacht and the center of his Nar Shaddaa operations. The Handmaiden, keeping up her post by the boarding ramp, sensing Darden with the Force but immediately throwing up ice hard mental walls.

And fighting their way towards her, focused on rescuing her with everything in them, three others. Bao-Dur and Atton felt her brush their minds.

_"We're coming, General,"_ Bao-Dur thought at her.

_"I _told_ you this was a stupid plan," _Atton 'said'. _"You owe me, sweetheart. Now get out of my head." _

_ "You left the door open," _Darden thought back at him. _"Good for you. You were looking for me. Now you found me." _

Still, she withdrew from his consciousness, though not without pressing on him her relief he was okay and her gratitude he'd shown up. But before her mind left the other side of the yacht, she felt that third presence, alongside Atton and Bao-Dur. She hadn't seen it on Nar Shaddaa; there was too much interference from the background noise of the life on the moon. But Mira was with the others, and her aura burned bright with fear, but also with determination and something like respect for Darden and the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_. And it had the particular _tang _and self-awareness only the Force Sensitive aura did. Hmm. No wonder she was so good, Darden thought. It was a wonder that she was here, trying to save Darden yet again. What did she want, anyway? Was she doing all this for Zez-Kai Ell?

Darden opened her eyes and looked around, but Goto's hologram had flickered out. Her audience with the crime lord was over. Goto had turned his attention towards the others. Darden made for the door now, but the droids behind her hovered around in front. Their weapons started humming, and she rolled her eyes, reached out with the Force, and crushed both their behavior cores. The droids fell to the ground, sparking, and rolled a ways before coming to rocking stops.

Darden went to the door and opened her pack. Then she shut it, scowling, remembering the security tunnelers and lockpicks were either on the ship or with Atton and Bao-Dur. She hadn't anticipated needing them in her meeting with Visquis. "You've gotten lazy, Leona," she muttered to herself. "Always be prepared for anything, remember?"

She stalked back to the droids and started taking them apart, setting aside parts she could use to build a few crude tunnelers herself. It took her about ten minutes to sort it all out, and then she started wiring bits of metal together and wrapping rubber belts around the metal to form insulating handles. She used the heat off her lightsaber to melt the rubber together and finish the tunnelers. When she was done, she looked down in satisfaction at five rudimentary security tunnelers, excellent for breaking into (or out of) locked rooms, cracking open locked storage compartments, and generally good for getting into (or out of) places she shouldn't be.

She shoved four of them into her pack, grabbed one in her left hand and her lightsaber in her right, and headed for the door. She'd just shoved one end of the tunneler into the lock, when the door opened, cracking the device.

"Dammit, Atton!" Darden snapped. "I've been working on that tunneler for the last half hour!"

He looked down at her, back at the snapped off tunneler still stuck in the open door, and past her at the broken, disemboweled guard droids. Then he looked back down at her. His mouth twitched.

Darden looked up at him. Her mouth twitched.

They both laughed at the same time.

"What? Didn't trust us to come get you?" Atton said. "When you've trained us yourself?" He clicked his tongue at her. "Your lack of faith in your devoted pupils wounds me, Master."

"You were taking too long," Darden said. She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Thanks for coming."

"Don't look at me," he said. "Bao-Dur and Mira did all the heavy lifting. Bao-Dur was all over those droids." He nodded at the ones Darden had taken down. "Some of them even look worse than yours. And Mira saved our collective behinds in Goto's minefields."

Darden stepped around Atton and punched Bao-Dur, too. "Hey, soldier. Thanks."

"I'm glad we got here in time, General," he said.

Darden nodded. Then she looked at her third rescuer. "We're not outta this yet," Mira said. "We've taken out a lot of Goto's defenses, but I'll just bet he has something really nasty up his sleeve. He doesn't like letting go."

Darden rolled her shoulders back. "You're right," she said. Then she punched Mira, too. Hard. On the jaw, and not the shoulder. "And if you hadn't _gassed_ me and walked into the trap I was _prepared_ for like an _idiot_, I wouldn't have had to walk into one I _wasn't _prepared for two hours later to save you. Why didn't you just _tell _me you worked for Zez-Kai Ell, huh? I could've ditched Visquis and we could've worked out another plan to meet with Goto, who, by the way, is a total _nutcase_…y'know, hold that thought, let's just get out of here."

Mira had stumbled back a few steps. Now she stood up straight, rubbing her jaw, and staring at Darden. Then, unaccountably, she laughed and held out her hand. "Fair enough," she said. "I screwed up. Sorry. When we get off this yacht, I'll take you to Zez-Kai Ell."

Darden shook her hand. "Good. Let's go." Then she smiled. "You didn't have to come, you know."

"I know," Mira said. "I wanted to. I owed you. You broke into Visquis' base to save me, like you said. If you hadn't, they wouldn't have got you. You got a nice little ship. Bit beat up, but it can move."

"We'll see how fast it can move when we get out of here," Darden said. "Er…which way?" she asked.

"Just a minute," Bao-Dur called from behind them. He removed a datapad from the console. "We have to shut down the tractor beam keeping us here," he explained. "I already switched the power so the secondary systems were supporting it, but I didn't have access to the power grid to turn the power on or off. I thought the codes must be here." He laughed a little. "We'd turned the rest of this yacht upside-down, already. And here they are. We'll have to head to the bridge to access the power grid. Then we can leave."

Darden nodded. "Sure. Lead the way, Bao-Dur."

Bao-Dur took the lead, and showed Darden through sparse, utilitarian, though wide rooms. Darden had expected to see bodies, or at least people lying unconscious or tied up. But there weren't any. Just lots and lots of exploded, sparking droids.

"Uh…are there any _people _on board?" she asked.

"Doesn't look like it," Atton said. "Just these droids. But that's not the really strange part. The really strange part…" he nodded as they entered a room with consoles all around. Not the bridge. These systems had another function.

"This control cluster isn't controlling the ship," he said.

"It's tracking signals on a planetary scale," Bao-Dur added, "Maybe even a galactic scale."

Atton raised an eyebrow at Darden. "Remember that Bith on the docks?"

Darden looked around, thinking hard. "Yeah," she murmured. "I do." She decided she'd send a message to _Hawk's Honor_, when they got back. Dustil and Mission might like to know what they'd discovered here. Bao-Dur led the three of them onto the bridge of the yacht, and started messing with the main power terminal.

Darden looked over his shoulder. "Wait!" she said. He looked back at her. "The cloaking device is on the secondary power supply, too," she said.

Bao-Dur hesitated. "I can switch it over to primary," he offered. "If the cloaking system goes down, every bounty hunter in the system will be on top of this place, so I'm told."

"Good odds about half a dozen ships are orbiting Nar Shaddaa looking for it right now," Mira put in. "They might be here before we can be gone."

Darden thought a moment. "Leave it," she said. "Take it down. Goto's caused us enough trouble. Let's cause some for him."

Bao-Dur pressed a button. "Done," he said.

Goto's voice filled the room, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once. "More visitors," he said dourly. "I don't know how many more of these pests I can disintegrate. What remains of the bounty hunters have found us, Jedi. Three ships are closing in, docking right now. It is time to cue the detonation sequence. Run, Jedi. Perhaps your friends have succeeded in rescuing you. But perhaps not."

Darden looked at her friends. They ran.

The bounty hunters ran faster, apparently. Not five hundred feet away, hardly halfway to the _Ebon Hawk_'s dock, they ran into a group of Duros.

/The Zhug family have scoured the galaxy for you, Jedi. You must stay here. We will bring you before Goto./

"Been there, done that—met your family on Dxun on the way, by the by. They're dead now. And so will you be if you don't run. This ship's going to blow any minute!" Darden cried.

/You lie because you fear us, Jedi, and rightly so./ the Duros said. /If you will not stay alive, then you will stay dead!/

"Oh, honestly!" Darden snapped. She threw her lightsaber in an arc through two Duros heads. Mira shot the third in the arm and leg, and he went down, screaming. Darden caught her lightsaber again, and they kept running.

But they were stopped again in another few hundred feet. Darden could feel the _Hawk _just a few rooms away, but the two Twi'leks standing in their way meant business. One's shirt was cropped high enough that Darden could see she had a bandaged side, and both were twirling rather inferior vibroblades, but their stances were professional. The eyes of the Twin Suns were glittering with hatred.

/Finally,/ said one, /We meet the exile. You should tell your companion that he should strike to kill, not wound./ She tossed her head-tails at Atton.

"Not again," he grumbled.

The other smiled fiercely, angrily. /We meet again, handsome, strong…fearful human./

"Ladies," Atton said, holding up his hands in a placating manner. "What you need is a man who understands the two of you…and understands your needs."

"Atton? The ship's going to explode," Darden said. "Is it really the time?"

The Twin Suns were ignoring Darden now, though. Both of them had shifted entirely towards Atton. /You understand our desire?/ one cooed.

The one with the bandaged side added, /Because we desire to dance, to hunt, and to _kill_./ She ended on a snarl.

"Well. I guess 'mating with scruffy humans' _isn't_ on that list," Atton said, taking up a Makashi stance.

"Did you think it would be?" Mira demanded. "You beat them up before."

/Next time, strike to kill, not wound. You will not escape us this time./

"Escape?!" Atton said, indignant. "I didn't run from you two schuttas last time. And this time I'm going to make sure you stay down."

"That's better," Darden said. "Just so long as you do it _quickly_."

Both Twi'leks ran at Atton. He cut through one's vibroblade, and immediately swung back and cut her entirely in half. She fell to the deck, smoking, hate-filled eyes opened wide. The other gave a scream before Darden beheaded her.

Atton looked down at them. "Shame. Schuttas, but they were hot." Then he took off running, leading the way back to the _Ebon Hawk_.

The Handmaiden and Canderous were standing side by side at the top of the boarding ramp, and several Gand were lying dead around the hall leading to it. Atton ran into the ship. Darden followed him, panting, and Bao-Dur and Mira followed her onto the ship. The Handmaiden punched the button for the ramp to ascend and the airlock to seal, and the _Ebon Hawk_ was already rumbling out into space and away from the yacht. The crew had kept her ready to fly.

Darden ran up to the cockpit. Atton steered the ship round, so they could see behind them, and they were just in time to see Goto's yacht explode. Darden grinned.

"I told you I could take him down," she said.

Atton rolled his eyes. "You had next to nothing to do with that, you know. All you did was get captured."

"Fine. _You_ brought him down. Ever think you'd do that?"

He shook his head. "I didn't think I'd ever do a lot of things I've done since I joined up with you," he said. He checked the instruments and pressed a button.

"We're in stable orbit around Nar Shaddaa. Now what?"

"I think Mira ought to know," Darden said.

"Did she really gas you?" Atton wanted to know.

"She did," Darden said.

"Huh. Strange thing to do for her to turn around and go all out to help us save your ass."

"She gassed me in the first place to save my ass," Darden told him. "At least, I think that's what she thought she was doing." She turned. "C'mon."

Atton punched up autopilot, and the two of them headed out to the main hold.

Mira was sitting on a bench, shaking her head and laughing every so often. "That was…that was…I cannot _believe_ we just blew up Goto's yacht. Is it like this all the time for you?" she asked. "Turning worlds upside down, then blowing up crime lord ships?"

"Nah," Atton said. "Last time it was a planet."

Mira's eyes widened, and Atton held up his hands. "No one was _on_ it," he said hastily.

Mira looked at Darden. Darden smiled ruefully. "Peragus II," she explained. "And the Sith blew it up, not us."

"We still did the time for it," Atton muttered.

"It was three days!" Darden argued. "House arrest, until they figured out it wasn't us."

"Peragus II was you guys?" Mira asked. "Wow. Chaos and destruction. Kind of your thing, isn't it? The destruction of Goto's yacht—it's going to destabilize crime throughout this whole sector."

"Yeah, well, you'll understand if I hold back the tears," Atton quipped.

Mira shook her head. "You don't understand," she argued. "Crime in the Y'Toub system—it's like the economy. Plus the power vacuum? Even if Vogga gets things up and running again, the system is going to be feeling the effects for years to come."

"Hopefully good effects," Darden said calmly. "The refugees will be much better off, and honestly? I don't care too much about the thugs, bullies, and contract killers."

"Anyway. Can you take us to that Jedi Master with the weird name, now? Zez? Kai? Whatever?"

"Zez-Kai Ell," Mira and Darden said at the same time. "You could say it perfectly well a couple of hours ago," Mira added.

Darden snorted, and Atton winked at her.

"We'll need to head back to Nar Shaddaa," Mira said. "I promised we'd meet with him in that safe house off the docks if we ran into any trouble."

"Fine," Darden said. "So long as there's no toxic gas this time."

"I said I was sorry, didn't I?" Mira snapped. "You punched me. Can we be done with that, already?"

Darden raised an eyebrow at her, then grinned.

"Oh. You were just—oh."

Darden opened her mouth, then stopped. A sinister whirring noise was approaching. She'd heard that noise before. She turned, and saw one of those black, round, guard droids of Goto's, except this one was bigger. It regarded her with its single, baleful red ocular sensor.

"If you thought to escape my notice that easily, you would be wrong," Goto said, speaking from the droid. There was no hologram this time, just the droid. "As a token of my goodwill, I present to you a gift: this droid. It will serve you well on your journey."

"You escaped," Darden said flatly.

"Of course I escaped," Goto said condescendingly. "You did not think I would have no backup plan, no escape, if my yacht were ever invaded. Such negligence would be statistically inadvisable. All officials of the Exchange attract a number of…rivals."

"Where are you speaking from? How'd this droid get on my ship?" Darden demanded.

There was silence. "I am afraid I do not understand what you mean," Goto said finally.

"Whatever. Fine. Tell me about this gift you're giving me as a token of your goodwill after I blew up your yacht," Darden said.

"As I indicated, this unit will remain with you and guard you. It will also serve as an effective voice for my orders during your journey."

"Wait, orders?" Mira asked.

Darden rolled her eyes. "No. Look, Goto. I'm doing something that you want done. That does not place me under your authority. How do I know this droid won't kill us?"

The droid circumscribed a tight little circle in the air. "I cannot harm you. You are the key to saving the Republic. Pray that you do not prove yourself otherwise."

"Key to saving the Republic?" Atton murmured.

"Yeah. The crime lord wants me to save the Republic," Darden muttered back at Atton and Mira. "Like I said: nutcase. I don't know about this. Maybe I should try to shut it down…?"

"That would be unfortunate," Goto interrupted a bit too quickly. "I would merely lose a droid, while you would lose your entire ship and a sizeable chunk of whatever planet you were on when you tripped the failsafe detonator."

Darden crossed her arms and looked the droid over. "You could be bluffing," she said.

"Oh, yes, I excel at that," Goto said, sounding amused now. "Regardless, testing it would benefit neither of us, I assure you. Do not be concerned. The detonator is primed only when the droid's behavior core is tampered with. If we enter combat, such actions will not trigger an explosion. As much as I need you, you will find you need me as well. And this droid will prove useful on your journey."

Darden stared at the droid. Goto's voice didn't sound like it was coming from a speaker. It sounded like it was coming from the droid. And there, on the shiny black casing, in little silver letters, she read the designation. G0-T0. She frowned. "Fine," she said after a long, long pause. "Let's just get to Zez-Kai Ell. Atton? Take us back down to the Refugee Sector."

"You got it," he said, sounding disgruntled. G0-T0 floated off, presumably to explore the ship. Mira grabbed Darden's arm tightly in a blue-fingered grip.

"You aren't really going to let Goto keep an explosive representative on your ship, are you?" she demanded.

"I don't know," Darden said. "There's something weird about that droid."

"It's just like dozens we saw on the yacht. Trust me, this is a bad idea."

"No, this droid's bigger. Did you see the designation? G0-T0. How many times have you heard Goto referred to as a calculating machine? Do you know anyone that's actually seen him? Ever?"

"No!" Mira said. "You can't honestly think—no way!" Still, her brow knit. "But you're right. I don't know anyone. Visquis told me: it's always holograms with Goto. Always. But you think he actually is a droid? That's crazy."

"I don't know what I think," Darden muttered. "I do think that if Goto thinks I'm helping him, he's probably not going to chase me around with bounty hunters anymore. If things aren't working in a month or so, I'll push that droid out the airlock in hyperspace. Until then, I could use the breathing room. Even if it is a little expensive."

Mira let go of her arm. "You really think about this stuff, don't you?" she asked. "I didn't think you did. I thought you just ran around making a spectacle of yourself. But you think about every risk you take. Hmm."

"How do you find someone on a moon of a couple billion people?" Darden asked her.

"You know your target," Mira answered right off the bat. "You know the area, and then you start walking."

"And if you don't know your target or the area?"

Mira blinked. "I guess…I guess you do what you did. Make noise until somebody gets annoyed enough they notice."

Darden shrugged.

"You took a big risk. You might've been killed a dozen different ways from here to Nal Hutta."

"But I wasn't," Darden said. "And there's not many people left to kill me."

"Oh, there's people," Mira objected. "But I don't know if they'll dare. You've won that much."

"So. How'd you hook up with Zez-Kai Ell?"

Mira shrugged. "He found me. He'd heard I was good. Heard about some jobs I'd done for some refugees and vets he knew. He'd sensed you, or whatever, and wanted me to watch your back until he could meet with you."

"He could've just found me himself," Darden said, a tad grumpily.

Mira looked levelly at her. "Don't think he knew if it'd be safe," she said. "He didn't tell me much about you, but I kinda got the idea you might have reason to want him dead."

"What?" Darden asked. "No. He was wrong. All the Council was. But I certainly don't want them _dead_. Especially not now. I need his help to fight the Sith."

"Oh. Well. Can't say he'll be happy to hear that, but at least he'll be relieved you aren't out to gut him with a lightsaber. He said you were a fighter." She looked Darden up and down. "He was right, too."

Darden looked away. "You have no idea," she murmured. "Maybe that's a good thing."

* * *

2100 HOURS, NAR SHADDAA, REFUGEE SECTOR, ON THE DOCKS

Mira had escorted Darden back to her safe house, then cleared out. Zez-Kai Ell was already there, sitting at a little low table. He'd brought a flickering lamp to help light the dim, windowless room, and he gestured at two plates of food on it. Marinated boma steak, it looked like, with fresh fruit, bread, and water. Darden sat opposite the old Jedi Master and started eating.

"Thanks," she said. "It hasn't been an easy day."

He started eating, too. "So. You have returned from exile. Kavar thought you might, if only to wander your old battlegrounds. But I did not think you would come to Nar Shaddaa. Still, you were always a difficult one to read, both when you were tied to the Force, and even more when it was lost to you."

Darden swallowed a mouthful of bread and took a sip of water. "I saw Master Kavar briefly on Onderon," she said. "We didn't have a chance to talk, though. He thought I'd come back?" She frowned. "I didn't think I'd come back."

Zez-Kai Ell was avoiding her gaze. He chewed his meat thoughtfully, swallowed, and paused. "He had served in war, as you had. Perhaps he thought he understood you, or maybe he simply hoped he did," he said finally. "He felt you were the key to understanding the threat we face; the others were not so certain." He paused again. "But so many of them are gone now, as you no doubt know."

"It's why I'm here," Darden said. "I'm so, so sorry. But—I don't understand. Why was I supposed to be the key to this thing?"

"Kavar sensed some connection between you and many of the worlds touched by war," Zez-Kai Ell explained. "He thought by traveling to such places, he could achieve understanding."

Darden started cutting up her meat. "What happened?" she asked quietly.

Zez-Kai Ell took a drink of water. "It is a long story, but there is no harm in you knowing. And someone should know." He pushed his plate aside. "Only a handful of us remained after the Jedi Civil War, barely a hundred in number. Then even that hundred began to vanish, in places where the Force seemed blind. The only pattern we determined was that when Jedi gathered, they were seen no more. At the last Jedi Council on the Miraluka world of Katarr, the entire planet was wiped out. An entire race…destroyed, because the Jedi chose to gather there. It was only then that we realized that we were facing something far more powerful than we knew how to fight."

Darden finished her meat and began on the fruit, to finish off. "So you retreated," she said.

Zez-Kai Ell inclined his head. "We could not allow that when we gathered, we placed everything around us at risk," he said. "A Jedi's life is sacrifice, but we cannot allow our presence or actions to endanger others. And we could not fight an enemy that would not reveal itself. But any Jedi, anyone who was strong in the Force, who attempted to track down such a threat vanished without a trace."

Darden grabbed Zez-Kai Ell's disposable plate and utensils, along with her own. She rose, and walked over to the garbage chute that would end up in the flophouse incinerator. "Okay," she said, returning to sit across from the old Jedi Master again. "But did you ever see the threat? What do you know about it?"

Zez-Kai Ell shook his head. His too-long hair swished and his earrings swung. "I know little about it. I know more of the absence it leaves behind than its face. Whatever this threat was, it was targeting us and everything around us. Yet it was somehow weak enough that it was afraid to face us openly. If it believed us defeated, then perhaps it would finally show itself. It was a faint hope, but it was the best we had. It was Kavar's plan; he was always the greatest tactician among us. And he had seen war more than the rest of us." He sounded somewhat sad about that, disappointed. As if he felt he had failed.

Darden ignored the intonation, sticking to business. "Retreating in order to draw the Sith out, then? It's working, somewhat. I've discovered a few things. There are three Sith Lords that threaten you, commanding legions of Sith. I have met one. Another has sent a scout to find me. She was to kill me, but forsook her master and swore allegiance to me, instead. Her Master was the one that destroyed Katarr, Master Zez-Kai Ell." Darden paused. "And she's—she's the last Miraluka in this sector of the galaxy."

Zez-Kai Ell regarded her with his dark, measuring eyes. "Are you at war again, then, Darden Leona?" he asked quietly.

"Not of my choice," Darden said firmly. "But now it is a matter of fighting, or becoming extinct, and much as I have suffered, I don't have it in me to quit and die just yet."

The corner of Zez-Kai Ell's mustache twitched. "No," he said. "You always were a determined one. We condemned you for it before. But now I wonder if you perhaps knew something that we did not."

Darden looked down. "Why did you cast me out of the Order, Master?" she asked quietly.

He shifted. "We told you it was because you followed Revan to war. But you ask because you are not certain of that answer." He sighed heavily, holding up his hands helplessly. "Nor were we. The day we cast you out, that is the moment I decided to leave the Order. I do not believe we truly faced the reasons you were exiled, and if we do not examine such truths, then we are already lost."

He paused, thinking. "I think it was because we were afraid," he admitted finally. "It is a difficult thing, to live one's life with the Force, and then to see a vision of what it would be like to be severed from it. It is more frightening than you know."

Darden looked at him, and judged him to be telling the truth. She nodded, slowly, though she felt slightly sick. _"Kreia," _she called mentally. There was no reply. To Zez-Kai Ell, she said, "You didn't sever me from the Force, then. I didn't think you had. But if you didn't, what happened to me? In the records of my trial, it wasn't mentioned."

Zez-Kai Ell smiled then, sadly. "Ah, so the records of your trial were found. Good. Sometimes I think the galaxy would be a better place if there were fewer Jedi secrets. But I have no answer for you, as much as I would like to give one. We vowed never to speak of it, and although I would not keep promises I made to Jedi, I keep promises I make to others, and Kavar was a friend. If we were gathered as one, then the promise might be revoked. Until then, I can say nothing."

Darden sighed, but nodded. "Then you might like to know that there's a plan to gather on Dantooine. Atris survived, and since the Sith have revealed themselves to me, she thought that it might be a good idea to gather together and decide what to do."

Zez-Kai Ell frowned slightly. "Atris? I thought she had gone to Katarr with the others. She was in possession of many of the Jedi records. It is good that she has survived."

He shifted, but Darden said, "I had more questions, Master. What do you know of Force Bonds?"

As she asked, she started playing pazaak in her head with all her might. _Draw 2; opponent draws 5. Draw 7; opponent draws 3. Totals are 9-8. Draw 1; opponent draws 6. Totals are 10-14…_

Zez-Kai Ell's brow knit as he sensed the change in her mind. But the important thing wasn't to keep him out, it was to keep Kreia—no, _draw 9; opponent draws 2. Totals are 19-16. I don't have a +1 in my hand, so I stand. _

"Such bonds are a connection that can be formed at moments of crisis," Zez-Kai Ell said at last. "Or in the slow understanding that grows between Master and apprentice. It is most common between two beings who are sensitive to the Force. It allows the transmission of feelings, of influence. It was something you were gifted with, as I recall, before your fall. You formed such attachments easier than most, even to those who could feel the Force only faintly." His mustache twitched. "Even Vrook could not ignore it, which is saying something."

_Opponent draws ten, busts at 26. Pazaak. Hand two, draw 1; opponent draws 2. _"Is there any way to remove such a bond?" Darden asked. _Draw 5; opponent draws 4. Totals are 6-6. _

"I do not know," Zez-Kai Ell said. "A bond between two living beings is not something easily broken. It is not a choice…it is like breaking a feeling. Like turning away from the Force. To break a bond, your feelings would have to change, or one of you would have to die, but even then, the bond wouldn't go away. It would simply be empty, a wound."

Darden was missing something. She felt she was missing something very important, something terrible. _Draw 8; opponent draws 9. Totals are 14-15. I have a +6 and I play it, bringing my total to 20…_

"Are you well, Darden Leona?" Zez-Kai Ell asked her.

Darden shook her head. "Fine. Fine. That's everything I wanted to ask you."

Zez-Kai Ell's face hardened, and he looked like he was about to stand.

Darden sighed. "No, no, don't tense up. I'm not going to kill you. Will you go to Dantooine?"

Zez-Kai Ell relaxed. "Now that the Sith threat has finally revealed itself to you, I will take up the role I cast aside," he said. "We Jedi will need to stand together. I did not speak fully of what I have felt. Staying on Nar Shaddaa—it is an exile of sorts. One that I have chosen. I, too, lost a Padawan at Malachor. Not to the battle, but to the alternative: to the teachings that Revan brought back from the Unknown Regions. And I was not the only Jedi Master to watch a student turn on them."

Darden looked down at her hands. "If you speak of my Master, Master Kavar, I never wished to disobey him. I never wished to disobey any of the Council. Yet I had to protect innocents. We all did."

"No, no, they were not to blame," Zez-Kai Ell said hastily. "But many of the Order did blame them." He looked at the lamp, eyes dark with sad memories. "It was a difficult time, a time of strong emotion. Perhaps the Council, perhaps the Jedi Order itself had grown arrogant in its teachings. It is easy to cast blame, but it is perhaps time that the Order accepted responsibility for its teachings, and its arrogance, and come to recognize that perhaps we are flawed.

"Not once did I hear one of the Council claim responsibility for Revan," he continued, "For Exar Kun, for Ulic, for Malak…or for you. Yet you were the only one who came back from the wars to face our judgment. And rather than attempting to understand why you did what you did, we punished you instead. Our one chance to see where we had gone wrong, and we cast it aside." He shook his head, spread his hand out on the table. "And now, that decision has come back to us, and may carry with it our destruction. Perhaps there is something wrong in us, in our teachings. And though I tried, I could not cause that thought to leave me, so I left the Council. And I was not the only one. That is why many scattered, and why many in the Republic do not trust us. And why we do not trust ourselves."

He looked up, caught Darden's gaze, and smiled ruefully. "Make no mistake, Darden Leona: I am no Jedi." He gestured around him. "This is the end you see. After this, there will be nothing. And I think it will be for the best."

Darden brought her left hand down to smack on the table. Zez-Kai Ell jumped, and Darden looked at him. "So the Council messed up," she said, after a long pause to make sure he was listening. "So the Jedi Order messed up, even. Does that mean we've got to scrap the whole thing? For all the failings of the Order, there have been so many successes. Rather than throw the entire Order out for a few faulty principles, I think we ought to fix what's broken and keep moving forward."

Zez-Kai Ell smiled at her, but shook his head. "You do not comfort me. Yet I will think on your words." He rose, stretched. "I must find passage to Dantooine, if the Jedi are to meet there."

"I could take you, if you wish," Darden offered. "You could help me find the others."

"No. I would not desire to draw our enemies upon us prematurely."

Darden frowned as she thought of all the Force Sensitives aboard the _Ebon Hawk_. "Trust me, one Jedi more isn't going to make a huge difference," she said.

But Zez-Kai Ell only shook his head, and Darden stood. "Well. If you really won't. But before you go, is there anything you can teach me?"

Zez-Kai Ell smiled, and rolled his shoulders. He brought out his lightsaber from beneath his shirt, a double bladed one like Darden's. He activated it, and the violet blade slid out with a hum. "Very well," he said. "Let us speak through the Force—through sparring."

He moved so they were away from the table and cots, in the middle of the mostly empty room. And they sparred. And he taught, and Darden learned, as if she'd never been exiled at all. But the room was empty still, a cheap room in a cheap flophouse on the Nar Shaddaa docks. And even as Darden learned Shien, she knew she would use it to deflect the hundreds of bolts her hundreds of enemies would shoot at her for the next however long.

* * *

2300 HOURS, _EBON HAWK_

Darden walked into the _Ebon Hawk_ alone late that night, utterly exhausted. Kreia was sitting alone in the main hold. Darden saw her there. "They didn't strip me of the Force," she said quietly, to Kreia's back. "I don't know what happened to me, but it wasn't the Jedi Council that did it."

"You trust the man that exiled you more than I?" Kreia asked.

"Yes," Darden said. "I could sense his sincerity. You always have your shields up when you tell me anything, except when you're speaking into my mind without my permission."

"You have your own shields now," Kreia replied.

"I think I need them," Darden told her.

Kreia stood, turned, and Darden saw her smile, before she walked away.

She sighed and walked into the med bay. So much had happened today. Too much. She'd need a week to process it. Maybe more. Anyway, they were broke. They'd used the last of their fuel from Dxun flying to Goto's yacht and orbiting the planet today. They'd need to buy more, and supplies for the journey to wherever. They'd used most of their excess credits outfitting the crew here. Lightsaber parts, armor, civilian clothes. Medical supplies. Upgrades for T3-M4 and parts for HK-47.

HK-47. Darden thought she had everything she needed for him now. Maybe she'd put him together for good tomorrow, reactivate him. Because what they really needed was another crazy droid on the ship, especially after G0-T0's joining.

Darden yawned, shut the door and began peeling off her clothes. She pulled on her sleep shirt, and ruffled her hair. She could think about everything in the morning.

Someone knocked on the door, though. Darden blinked. Maybe not. She opened the door, and saw Mira there.

She blinked again. "Wha—I thought you'd be gone." She scratched her head. "Do I owe you something? We only have a couple hundred credits to spare, but I could pay you for services rendered. Zez-Kai Ell's heading to Dantooine, and none of us are dead, and that's probably down to you."

Mira shifted weight from one foot to the other. "Nah, that's not it," she said. "You never hired me. Zez-Kai Ell did, and he already paid me. Two fees for the same job would feel too much like fraud. I have ethics." She hesitated. "Look. You're crazy, okay? But keeping you alive, helping you out today, it's the best challenge I've had in years. So actually—I was sort of wondering—you looking for another crewmate?"

Darden shook her head to dispel the sleepiness. "We _weren't_—but—you really want to come?"

"Yeah," Mira said, clearly uncomfortable. "I think I do. Just—what's up with the Sith?"

"They're after me," Darden sighed. "Well, all Jedi, really. They want to kill us, then they've won. We want to stop them. So we're looking for Jedi across the galaxy that have scattered to protect themselves. We're trying to find them all and get them to go to Dantooine, where we're hoping we can work out something to do. As far as I know, there's three left. We ran into my old Master, Kavar, on Onderon, but stuff came up, and we had to go. He's supposed to get in touch with us. Then there's one already on Dantooine, and another on Korriban. At least, that's the rumor." She shrugged. "It may turn out that Zez-Kai Ell is the only one we end up getting, or we may all be killed in a week by the Sith."

She looked hard at Mira.

Mira hesitated, then she nodded once, curtly. "Yeah. I wanna come," she said.

Darden rubbed her temples. "Look, we'll talk about it in the morning, okay? We're not heading out of here any time soon, anyway. The ship needs fuel, and the crew needs food, and for both those things we need credits we don't have right now. You'll have time to back out. And I'm too tired to think straight right now, anyway."

Mira clicked her tongue. "Sheesh. You'd never last in some of the other sectors on this moon," she said. "It's only 2300 hours, for crying out loud." Then she looked at Darden, and softened. "Fine. Go to sleep. You almost look like you've been gassed then electrocuted then up in space and back today. I'm not gonna change my mind. But we can talk about it in the morning."

* * *

**A/N: Moving right along! And moving out of our set chapter-pattern, now, because the next bit is return-to-Onderon, where I'm using a three chapter arc instead of a five chapter arc. **

**Coming Soon: There's business still to conduct on Nar Shaddaa before Darden Leona can depart for other reaches of the galaxy and other lost Jedi. Darden grubs for credits and makes deals with Hutts. Meanwhile, Mira thoroughly adjusts to the crew of the Ebon Hawk, leaving Darden wondering about Zez-Kai Ell's words of her ability to form bonds with Force Sensitives. And the newly reactivated HK-47 is very angry that he has been duplicated, upgraded, and mass-produced. With all this going on, will Darden miss the message from her old Master telling of escalation of the conflict on Onderon? Will she be able to get to Onderon in time to prevent catastrophe?**

**Keep reading, and Keep Reviewing! I really appreciate all your feedback.**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	22. Business Finished and Unfinished

**Disclaimer: HK-47 isn't mine, either. Thankfully. Imagine the trouble, owning such a droid!**

* * *

XXI.

Business of the Finished and Unfinished Varieties

Darden woke up with a headache. This didn't surprise her. But she determined that life must still go on. Nevertheless, she could hardly help being short when she called the crew together for a meeting, especially when Mira walked in and she realized she still had to deal with the bounty hunter's insane request.

The others were nonplussed, too. "What are you still doing here, bounty hunter?" the Handmaiden asked. "We are grateful for your help, but is not your business with us concluded?"

"The name's Mira, Handmaiden," retorted the same. "I'd appreciate it if you'd use it. I never got into this titles only thing you've got going." Then she shut her mouth, colored slightly, and said, "Sorry. It's just—I'd like to stay, if Darden says I can."

"Why?" Kreia demanded. "We cannot pay you for your efforts. Surely you realize this."

"Yeah, I know," Mira said. "I'm still offering."

Bao-Dur looked thoughtful. "Mira certainly was a help rescuing you from Goto, General. We could probably use someone with her skills along."

"Why you would need a two-bit bounty hunter when I have offered you this droid is beyond my ability to calculate," Goto said from his spokesdroid, or G0-T0 said, pretending to be Goto. Darden rubbed her temples.

"I confess I am still at a loss as to why you are here, also, droid," Visas said.

G0-T0 was silent.

"G0-T0 is here representing the interests of the Republic for Goto," Darden said. "Like Mandalore is here representing the interests of the Mandalorians and the Handmaiden is here representing the interests of Atris."

"Basically he's another spy," Atton said shortly.

"Another _diplomat_," Darden said wearily. "Whatever we do, we might as well own up that it's going to affect the rest of the galaxy. It's only fair that parties in the galaxy have representatives to help our cause…and further their own. You might say the _Ebon Hawk_ is the Republic itself, in miniature."

"An interesting way of looking at it," Kreia said, sounding almost approving.

Darden turned to Mira. "As such, I guess I'll view your request to join up like a planet's request to join the Republic. For my part, I won't say no, though I will say that until we leave Nar Shaddaa, you can back out any time you want. If you do join up, you'll be one of us. We'll expect your help fighting when people attack us and cleaning the ship when we come back at night, but we'll also look out for you, like we look out for everyone here. At least…I will."

"I as well," Visas said.

"And me," Bao-Dur said.

Atton looked her over. "Sure. Welcome aboard," he said after a moment.

Mandalore nodded his head. The Handmaiden hesitated. "I cannot argue against you…Mira. But I do not think Atris would appreciate the involvement of the Exchange in this venture," she added, looking at G0-T0.

G0-T0 said nothing.

"He won't go," Darden said. "And he says if we try to shut the droid down there'll be a massive explosion. He's probably lying, but like he says, there's no point testing it, and he promises he won't get in our way, so long as we work to stabilize the Republic. For the time being, none of us has any intention of doing anything else." She looked at Mandalore, who shifted, but didn't argue. "So—we'll tolerate him, I guess."

"So, I can come, but I gotta deal with him if I do," Mira summed up. "Well, you win some, you lose some. Thanks."

"Well. That's the crew issues taken care of for now," Darden said. "The next objective is obviously to get off-world and return to looking for the lost Jedi, whether that means returning to Onderon for Master Kavar or progressing to Dantooine or Korriban. Unfortunately, right now we don't have the credits for fuel or food to get us anywhere, so before we do anything, we need cash."

"So it's back to the Nar Shaddaa standby?" Atton asked. "Swoop racing and pazaak and asking around after work until we've made the credits we need?"

"Not exactly," Darden said. "I think I'll be able to collect the bounty Vogga's been offering for the cessation of Goto's attacks on his freighters. It ought to be enough to supply us for a couple months, at least, if not for fuel." She shrugged. "Then, yes, it's back to the old Nar Shaddaa standby."

"It is easier on Telos and Dxun," the Handmaiden observed.

"Yes well, people like us there," Darden said. "Right. I'm going to see Vogga. Who wants to come with? That Hutt freaks me out."

Mira rolled her eyes. "Count me in. The bounty hunter war's probably petered out by now, but I don't want you getting shot by one of Vogga's lackeys if you say the wrong thing."

"If I may, I will come, too," said the Handmaiden."

"Sure," Darden said.

"Think I'll hit the pazaak den," Atton said. "Try to make some of those credits you won't."

Darden nodded, then looked up sharply. "_Don't_ cheat," she said.

Atton spread his arms. "Would I _ever_?"

Darden glared at him. "Yes."

"Well I won't this time," he said.

Bao-Dur volunteered to go with Atton, while Mandalore, Visas, G0-T0, T3-M4, and Kreia said they'd stay with the ship. So Darden set off again across Nar Shaddaa.

* * *

MIRA

So Mira still felt she'd done the right thing for her and for the galaxy by joining up with Darden Leona, but one thing was for sure. The girls on this ship sure didn't know how to gossip. On the way to Vogga the Hutt, Darden told her a little more about where and how she'd met up with all the crew members, and Mira gathered a little more about the crew dynamics from that. Darden was training Bao-Dur and Atton to be Jedi, and though Visas could already use the Force, she was training her to control herself and follow Jedi, not Sith, principles. From what Mira knew about the Jedi, all three of them were way too old, but she also knew these were crazy times. She figured Darden's objective was to stop the Jedi from going extinct, and if someone was Force Sensitive, she was going to try to train them.

As far as Mira could tell, Darden was on good terms with mostly everyone, even the Mandalorian. Mira liked her a little better for that. Darden called the Mandalorian 'Canderous' and seemed to respect him a great deal. Darden liked the little T3-unit, even. The only two crew-members Darden seemed uncertain about were Goto's droid and the old lady, Kreia. Which was weird, because Darden called Kreia her teacher.

That wasn't much. Darden told her that if she wanted to know any more about anybody, she'd have to ask them herself. Mira got even less out of the Echani girl, who only answered to 'Handmaiden', and wouldn't tell anyone her name, apparently. All Mira could figure out about her was the girl had been sheltered, thought too much, and though she had worshipped her 'mistress', the Jedi Atris, she'd started to rethink that, lately, and was starting to worship Darden instead. Not that the Handmaiden told her any of this. Mira could see it, though, in the way the girl looked to Darden before answering any questions, hear it in the way she spoke Atris' name and Darden's. You didn't get to be number one on Nar Shaddaa without learning to pay attention to the details.

Anyway, right before Mira could ask Darden how she'd ended up blowing up Peragus II in the first place, they got to Vogga's place. Darden's face set into a calm mask Mira had seen before on some master pazaak players in the middle of a really tough game, she squared her shoulders, and led them into the low, perfumed chamber.

The Hutt was stretched out on a carpeted dais beneath a canopy. A Twi'lek girl was fanning him, and a kath hound sat on either side of him. Mira looked at him with distaste. Hutts were a fact of life here on Nar Shaddaa. Didn't mean she had to like them.

Vogga's red, lazy eyes fell on Darden. /You've returned,/ he said. /But I do not see Goto chained behind you. Can it be that you have not had success yet?/

"On the contrary," Darden said in a clear, firm voice. "Goto's not with me, but you can be absolutely certain he won't cause you any more trouble."

The Hutt's wide, cracked mouth widened still further. /Indeed, I had heard as much,/ he admitted. /I wouldn't have thought you could have so easily disposed of him. Rarely am I as impressed by a human. I believe that means we have a matter of business to discuss. My freighters have already begun their work. I will open trade with the Telosians. However, I believe they will be reluctant to listen to my offer, should it come from me./ He waved his fat arm and another Twi'lek girl brought a case of credits, along with a datapad on which Mira could just make out the opening words of a business contract, written in Huttese. /These credits should cover your expenses and a fee for services rendered,/ he said.

Mira frowned. She'd just figured Darden was picking up the credits for stopping Goto's attacks on Vogga's freighters. But Vogga was talking like they'd made some sort of deal for him to trade fuel with Telos. Darden looked completely unsurprised.

/I do expect you to do as I have asked,/ Vogga said. /If you do not, you will find that you have little time to enjoy those credits./

Darden rolled her eyes. "Please. There's no need for threats, Vogga. I want Telos to have fuel as much as you want to sell it to them and make back the money you lost to Goto. I'll go to Citadel."

/Good. Now leave,/ Vogga ordered. /I haven't grown so fond of you I like having you around./

Which Mira knew meant that Vogga liked Darden quite well. She looked over at Darden, impressed again how all she'd done seemed to have been part of a plan.

Darden bowed, and led them out of the chamber.

"Atris will be pleased," the Handmaiden said. "If Telos opens trade with Vogga for the fuel on Sleheyron, Citadel Station could be saved."

"Vogga will charge an arm and a leg for that fuel," Mira said. "And will the Republic even want to trade with a Hutt?"

Darden shrugged. "The Sith blew up Peragus II and left Citadel Station without a fuel source. But they wouldn't have done it if I hadn't been there at the time. I promised Lieutenant Grenn on the Telos Security Force that I would keep a lookout for an alternative fuel source. I have done so, and I've secured one for them. If they don't want to keep up trade with Vogga, they can negotiate with him themselves, but at least the fuel on Sleheyron will keep them from falling out of orbit or having to stop the Restoration Project until they've found a more palatable replacement." She paused. "Anyway—I made Vogga promise that if I stopped Goto's attacks he'd charge a fair price. He'll honor our deal. At least for a while."

Mira looked sideways at her. "Well. You honor your deals, at least. I'll give you that."

Darden smiled. "Let's hit the suppliers. I'll comm Canderous and get him down here to help us haul the stuff back to the _Ebon Hawk_."

* * *

DARDEN

1100 HOURS, _EBON HAWK_

Mira was helping Darden catalogue the supplies, while the Handmaiden and Canderous brought more in. Mira was being quiet, mostly, but she kept looking up from her list at Darden and opening her mouth, until Darden couldn't take it anymore.

"What is it, Mira?"

"It's just, I think I got the wrong first impression of you," she said. "I wanted to apologize. I thought you were some sort of well-intentioned idiot, watching you these two weeks, but you're not. You know what you're doing here, for all it didn't turn out exactly like you planned. So. Sorry. And…I was wondering."

"What?"

"You and Atton. Are you, or aren't you? 'Cause you have this glow. I mean, not a real glow, but…you're exhausted, have about a million things to deal with, but you're at peace? But it's more than that. You haven't been chewing on spice, have you?"

Darden sensed a lot of confusion and curiosity from Mira. She couldn't help but smile.

"Ew. No. I need to keep in control of myself. I think you're sensing the Force in me."

"Oh. Well, it's like you're hooked up to a power coupling, you know?" Mira said, missing the point. "It's weird. I mean, not bad weird, just weird. So you and Atton haven't—well, I know you haven't _recently_, you haven't had the chance, but—"

"Okay, what are you talking about?" Darden said, annoyed at Mira's beating around the bush.

"I was asking if you and Atton had, you know, hooked up a power coupling?"

Darden blinked. "What?"

Mira sighed. "Did you get out much as a Jedi? I was asking if you two had ever been, you know, intimate."

Half a dozen images flashed into Darden's brain. Her face heated up like a star and she suddenly couldn't look at Mira. "Oh…uh…no. No. I mean, I like him, but…how does that work, anyway?" she asked, suddenly, looking up at Mira. "Do you know?"

Mira raised an incredulous eyebrow and laughed. "What? No one explained to the little Jedi how babies are made? Well, when a male and a female kind of like each other, there's this thing they can do…"

Darden blushed again. "No. Not _that_. I meant, do you understand men?"

She looked down at the datapad and entered the five water barrels into the catalogue. The Handmaiden walked in with a sack of meal, and Mira waited until she'd gone again to answer.

"Sure. They're easy," she said, gesturing to her crop top and tight pants. "That's why I dress like this. When they're looking down to check you out, you can usually smash them on the base of the skull, or deliver an uppercut that knocks them flat."

Darden frowned. "Well…I guess you _could_."

Mira rolled her eyes. "It's simple. If you want a man, you jab him with a Bothan Stunner, then while he's screaming in pain, slap some stun-cuffs on him. Then starve him for two or three days until he becomes open to suggestion, then double-check his bounty and see if he's worth anything."

Darden paused, running through the advice in her head. "Are you being metaphorical?" she asked doubtfully. "Because that sounds more like hunting…"

"Call it what you want," Mira said, as Canderous came in with five boxes of gunk for the synthesizer. "Me, I love my targets."

"That's the last of it, Leona," he said. "You need any help cataloguing it all?"

Darden shook her head. "Mira and I will handle it. Thanks for helping us bring it here."

Mira knelt and opened another barrel to start sorting out the contents.

Darden looked at her, suddenly curious to know a little more about this young woman. "So. I heard about you, before we met. They almost always mentioned a Wookiee named Hanharr when I asked. He—he was in the pit when I talked to Visquis. He chased you? What happened to him?"

Mira didn't answer right away. Her red bangs hid her face, even shoved back with her headband. "He's dead now," she said finally. "But he was a bounty hunter. Well. I say bounty hunter. That's just the closest word for what he did. It was a lot more vicious than that, ran a lot deeper. He was out to make the whole galaxy suffer—every living thing in it. He wanted to break them, ruin them, and when they couldn't suffer any more, he wanted them dead."

Her voice was harsh and dry. Darden entered a number beside the dried fruit on the list in the datapad. "Why was he out for you in particular?"

Mira shrugged, starting to count canned fish. "I didn't kill him once. Biggest mistake ever. And now I've fixed it."

"But what about the first time?" Darden pressed.

Mira looked up at her. "D'you really wanna know?"

"If I ask, I want to know," Darden told her.

Mira returned to counting cans. "Hanharr and me go way back," she said finally. "In the worst possible way. He's from some forest planet on the Outer Rim where Czerka had set up one of their slaving operations."

"So he was a slave?"

Mira smiled grimly, shutting up a box more firmly than it strictly needed to be shut.

"Well, not for very long. Once off-planet, Hanharr escaped from the Czerka slavers then killed them all. "

Darden finished cataloguing her half of the supplies and moved to help Mira reorganize her half, so the Handmaiden still had room to sleep and practice. "Not an uncommon story," she remarked. "Really served them right. I don't like slavers."

"Well, before you get too proud of him, Hanharr figured Czerka had the right idea," Mira said flatly. "I don't think he understood slavery before, at least not on the scale that Czerka practiced it. But after he escaped he did. You ever hear of Dersonn III? Or the Iti Cluster Colonies?"

Darden frowned, pausing. "Yeah. A crazy Wookiee…oh."

Mira nodded. "Yeah. He made what happened to his homeworld look like an exercise in community building. He wasn't a bounty hunter. He was a slaver. A predator. It was like he was out to capture or kill every human in the galaxy, to settle some huge score or debt. I don't get it. But he's dangerous." She shuddered, stacking the last box up.

Darden walked out of the cargo hold and into the med bay. Mira followed her, and they both sat down. "Who did he work with?" Darden asked.

"Anyone who paid credits," Mira told her. "And sometimes he just hunted humans for sport. The ones who survived he sold to the Exchange, to the Hutts, anyone who'd buy bodies, living or dead. He and Vogga used to do big credit transactions," she said, with a nod at Darden. "That Hutt really likes the look of unwrinkled humans for some reason. Doesn't make him popular with the other Hutts, let me tell you."

Darden grimaced. "Sure. But how do you come into all this?"

Mira looked down at the ground. "One time, he decided to hunt me. And not only did I escape, but I saved his life while doing it. He's been hunting me ever since."

She looked very young, very tired, and very afraid, all at the same time, even though Hanharr was dead and she'd killed him herself. But Darden instinctively knew not to ask Mira about her fear, or let any sympathy creep into her voice. She kept her tone clinical. "Weird. Why?"

Mira spread her hands helplessly. "I don't pretend to understand it, but among his people, they have these codes of honor. But somewhere along the line, Hanharr's got twisted. His people form these things called 'life debts'. If you save the life of one of them, they pledge themselves to you."

"But Hanharr's different?"

Mira's fingers started working at the sheets covering the med bay cot. "Well, he can't escape the life debt," she explained. "It's bred into him. But he hates every other living thing in the galaxy, so pledging himself to someone else, especially a human, was unbearable. So when I saved his life, it was the worst thing I could do. It was like slavery all over again, but it was in his head. It was like it pushed him over the edge."

"How so?" Darden asked.

Mira looked up, impatient now. "You asked why he chased me: that's why. A life debt to Hanharr is a death sentence. He'll hunt you until you're dead. When I saved his life, it meant he had to kill me. And so he kept chasing me in hopes I would die. I think the fact I showed him mercy after he'd hated humans for so long—he couldn't stand that."

` "That doesn't make sense," Darden said.

"Yeah," Mira said. "Tell me about it. Like I said, I get the impression a life debt is supposed to be a gift, but to Hanharr it's more like a curse, to both people involved."

Darden hesitated, then caught Mira's gaze. The young woman went still. "You keep alternating between past and present tense," Darden said quietly. "You killed him, right? He's gone. Do you have any regrets?"

Mira shook her hair out of her face, defiant. "Oh, I'm glad he's gone," she said firmly. "It's like a weight off my shoulders. I don't have to keep watching my back every minute, wondering when he's going to show up. And he always did. It's like he always knew where I was. If he were still alive, he'd be chasing us now, waiting to ambush us when we least expected it. And he always shows up at the worst possible times. He was one of the best bounty hunters on Nar Shaddaa. He never gave up on his prey. Or his life debts. He was a hunter, a natural predator." Her voice was soft, and her eyes were wide, even now.

Darden shook her head, incredulous. "You killed him because Visquis shut you up in a pit with him and you had no choice. But why did you save his life in the first place? How?"

Mira shifted. "Well, as happens on Nar Shaddaa, I made someone mad. Mad enough for them to send Hanharr after me. Turns out, they were even able to get him cheap. He'd heard about me, and wanted to hunt me down for sport. He didn't think I'd be much of a challenge."

"What happened?" Darden asked.

Mira shrugged. "He tried to box me down in the vents beneath the Nar Shaddaa docks, and he'd set one too many proximity mines to cover the escape routes. I think he hoped to drive me into the mines and let them do the work, or that I'd be too scared to try and walk through them." She straightened a little, and a bit of pride came into her voice. "Thing is, I know Hanharr's supplier—and the trigger signature for the mines. It was pretty easy to broadcast a signal to blind their sensor receptors for a minute or two. I figured that would buy me enough time to move through them and get away."

Darden blinked. "You are good with explosives, aren't you? Think you even impressed Bao-Dur, yesterday, and that's not easy. Setting up a jamming signal for proximity mines isn't a walk in the park."

Mira looked pleased. "It isn't, but I spent most of my childhood hauling mines and munitions. I got to know my way around them. If I hadn't, I wouldn't be here right now."

Darden looked at her, and filed _that_ tidbit of information away for future reference. "Hmm. So what happened?"

Mira looked down again. "Like I said, I disarmed the trigger fuses for enough of the mines to get by. Temporarily. Hanharr was pretty fast on my trail. I'd just made it to safety when he hit the first one. The blast leveled the entire ventilation section…and Hanharr was caught right in the middle. And he survived. Barely." She hesitated, then continued quietly. "He was crawling around, blinded from the flash and the plasma burns. It had happened so fast, all the blood had been scabbed and crusted by the flash. I had the drop on him, and even blind, he knew it. He could still hear me. My ears were still ringing from the blast, but I could hear him, too.

"I think he was begging me to let him live. His voice…it…it wasn't a roar, more like the echo of it. I suppose I should have killed him then, but I couldn't do it. He was in pain, and he was helpless." Mira looked up, and said clearly, "So I dragged him out of there….far enough that he was safe. After that, he kept hunting me. He said he'd pursue me to the edge of the galaxy, no matter where I ran, he would find me. And break me. He said that I would always be prey."

Now Darden couldn't remain silent. She shook her head, firmly. "Look. You aren't prey. And I think it was braver and stronger of you to spare Hanharr's life in that tunnel than it would have been if you had left him to die." Mira met her gaze. The corner of her mouth twisted.

"And killing him in that pit?"

Darden didn't look away. "It was you or him, then. You chose you. Nothing wrong with that."

Mira looked away. "Maybe."

"And you just stayed on Nar Shaddaa?" Darden pressed. "Have you always lived here?"

Mira shook her head. "I wasn't born here or anything. Just sort of ended up here."

"On your own?" Darden asked. "I mean, don't you have any family?"

Now Mira looked at her. "I did have," she said tightly.

"What happened to them?"

"The war happened," Mira said. "The first one, against the Mandalorians. Had family right up until the end. It's not really a new story. You hear it all across the galaxy. It's what happens after the wars are over that you don't hear much about."

Darden swallowed. She felt the blood leave her face, and Mira was watching her. "You had family until the end…until Malachor? Did they die there?"

"I think so," Mira said slowly, watching Darden's face. "After Revan crushed the Mandalorians, planets throughout the galaxy were flooded with refugees. I was just one of them. I got passage to Nar Shaddaa. From there…not much you can do, so I became a bounty hunter."

Darden hesitated, thinking of the Handmaiden. "Hardly any Jedi had family at Malachor," she hazarded after a moment. "Jedi aren't encouraged to have families. And there weren't colonies on Malachor V—so—"

"Zez-Kai Ell told me you fought in the Wars, Jedi," Mira said harshly. "What do you think?"

Darden blinked. "You're Mandalorian?"

Mira shifted. "As much as any slave becomes a Mandalorian," she qualified. "They took prisoners on every world they conquered to bolster their ranks, and they took a lot of worlds."

Ah. Now the mines and munitions remark made sense. Darden looked Mira over, trying to put all the pieces in place. "You were a slave."

Mira shifted again. "When I was young, yeah. They mostly used me to carry ammo packs and munitions. Toward the end of the war, they needed everyone they could get. They taught me to fight, to hunt, to survive." She held up her head. "I was part of their squad, even when I was young. Everyone served as part of the unit, and I felt like I had a place there." She held her chin out, defying Darden to remark on it, to say she oughtn't to have considered her owners her family. But Darden knew the Mandalorians better than that, at least, the good ones.

Darden sighed. "_Aliit ori'shya tal'din,_" she said softly.

Mira's eyes widened. "That's what they said. Family is more than blood. How-?"

"Zez-Kai Ell told you I fought them," Darden answered. "I am sorry it came to what it did, Mira. Everyday. But it had to end."

"I know," Mira said, looking down again. "I saw the worlds they left behind them in the war. That kind of stays with you. I haven't forgotten it. What happened at Malachor…they…they probably deserved it." The words were bitter, like Mira felt she had to say them.

"You don't sound sure of that," Darden said.

Mira's eyes flashed. "Should I be?" she demanded, angry now. "Maybe I should ask you if you're happy about all the Jedi that died at Malachor V. Maybe it feels like you lost family there. But I doubt it. Why are you asking about all this? You haven't told me anything about you."

"My story is your story," Darden said heavily. "Except I fought on the opposite side. I don't feel like I lost family at Malachor. But I do feel like I lost friends. So, so many friends. My family? I left them behind. When I came back they disowned me. Not sure I didn't deserve it, really, any more than I'm sure the Mandalorians deserved Malachor. All I know is that they had to be stopped. It had to end. So—" she took a deep breath. "Revan and I…we ended it."

Mira went very, very still. "All Zez-Kai Ell told me when he hired me to look out for you was that you had fought. But—when Bao-Dur calls you General…"

"Yes. He means _that_ General," Darden answered. "I gave the order for the destruction of Malachor that day." She stood. Mira stared at the wall.

"I'll understand if you want to leave," Darden said, and walked out, leaving Mira alone in the med bay, emotions churning.

* * *

1400 HOURS, _EBON HAWK_

The rest of the crew was finishing up lunch. But Darden was in the storage compartment, working on HK-47 and giving Mira her space. The bounty hunter hadn't cleared out after their conversation, like Darden thought that she might, given her past. But she was in a very bad mood. She wasn't talking to hardly anyone. Of course, no one knew her, so no one knew anything was wrong.

Darden fiddled with Revan's personal assassin droid's casing. The problem with him was, there was nothing further she could do to him given her current level of experience working with droids. Bao-Dur would be able to improve him more, but before he did, Darden wanted to know whether it was a good idea, and to know that, she'd have to activate the thing. Only, she didn't really want to. But she didn't see how she could put it off any longer. She stepped back, dusted her hands off, and flipped the switch on his neck to activate him.

A few wires sparked, but most of them didn't. The inside of the droid hummed, and it straightened.

"Hey! What's going on?" Atton called from the main hold.

"Powered up the HK unit," Darden called back.

"Wait, what?"

Atton, Bao-Dur, and Kreia all came running to the door of the storage compartment as the droid's ocular sensors flickered, and turned on red, not yellow like the HK-50 units.

"Diagnostic: HK-47 activated," the droid said in a rusty sounding voice that rapidly gained strength. "Running checks through primary systems. Assessment: It appears I have suffered considerable damage and dismemberment," it said, in surprise, after a moment. "I can feel all the cracks in my motivators. And my central control cluster seems to have taken several repeated blaster shots at close range. How crude."

It had more variety of expression than the HK-50 units.

"We must be prepared for anything," Kreia said. "Did it not occur to you that this droid might be party to the assassination order the 50 series has out on you?"

Darden ignored her. "Welcome back to the world of the function. Hi. I'm Darden," she said to the droid.

"Query: Darden? Darden Leona, the General of the Mandalorian Wars, responsible for the Malachor V atrocity?"

Bao-Dur winced, but Darden didn't flinch. "That's me."

"Statement: I am pleased to be in the presence of one so skilled in the slaughtering of meatbags! There is much you can teach me. Query: Did the old female meatbag say there was an assassination order out on you?" The droid's head swiveled from side to side, looking from Darden to Kreia to Bao-Dur and Atton.

"You look an awful lot like a series of droids that have attacked me lately, is all," Darden explained.

A gear clicked. "Answer: Oh, that is impossible, master. If I were out to kill you, we would not be speaking. And regardless, I am a unique model. Why, to think that there would be other versions of me would be unacceptable."

Atton laughed harshly. "Better accept it, droid. There are _several _other versions of you in smithereens across four planets."

"Statement: Meatbag, I must inform you that your attempts at humor are wasted on a droid such as I. As I have expressed, I am unique," HK-47 said, sounding offended.

"He's not joking," Darden told him. "We've manually deactivated…er…thirteen?"

"Nineteen," Atton said grimly.

"Nineteen HK-50 droids," Darden said.

HK-50 swiveled his head. He brought his rusty arm up squealing. "Resignation: Very well, Master," he said. "If you persist in your attempts at humor, I shall indulge you. Let me check the ship's records, and we will settle this matter once and for all."

With much shrieking of rusty joints that Darden imagined might hinder the droid's ability to perform his function, he made his way to the cockpit. Darden frowned. "Did you update the ship's log?"

Atton shrugged. "Since we started out, and that ought to be enough."

Atton, Darden, Bao-Dur, and Kreia left the storage compartment and emerged out into the main hold. Mandalore was staring at them, arms crossed.

"What the hell have you done, Leona?" he demanded. "I traveled with that droid in the Jedi Civil War. Not only is it annoying as all get-out, it's a total psychopath. Took me, Jolee, and Revan put together to keep it from blowing the brains out of every passersby that looked at us funny on the street."

"It was just sitting there, useless," Darden protested. "I can't stand that, okay? So I fixed it. It's not like I can sell it to anybody. And maybe it knows something about Revan."

"Not likely," Canderous snorted. "It's a Sith droid, and more than that, it's Revan's droid. She was paranoid about leaving a trail as a Sith. That droid loses its memory every time it leaves her, and you can't access it until it's back with Revan."

"Well I can always deactivate it again," Darden protested.

T3-M4 rolled up and beeped in distress.

"What do you mean you want him to protect me?" Darden demanded, indignant. "Do I really need more protection?"

T3-M4 beeped and whirred so earnestly, Darden sighed. "Well, if you think he'll help, we'll keep him. On a trial basis, understand."

Squealing gears indicated HK-47's reappearance. He walked up to Darden and looked down at her. "Conclusion: You speak the truth," he concluded. "This discovery is causing me some degree of anger. And humiliation."

"Well are you alright?" Darden asked.

"Mockery: 'Am I alright?'" HK-47 mocked her, not strictly mimicking her tone, but instead putting on a high-pitched, quavering voice. "Oh, yes, Master, why, I am fine," he said sarcastically in his normal voice. "Statement: I mean, I have only just been reactivated, only to find out that there are sub-standard duplicates of me running all over the galaxy, corroding my good name. But if they are, in fact, hunting you, then I look forward to the opportunity to meet these units, and educate them in proper assassination protocols. Conclusion: So it seems I need you, for the time being."

Darden looked at Canderous. He extended a gauntleted hand to gesture at HK-47, as if to say HK-47 was proof enough of his point. Darden sighed. "Fine," she said to the droid. "I want to keep you around, anyway. Though you don't seem to know what happened to you, you may remember, or have some clues about your old master that I want. But there are some ground rules. I know you're an assassin droid, but I don't want you killing anyone except in self-defense. And even then, only when I give the order."

HK-47's red optics dimmed. "Answer: Yes, master," he said sulkily. "HK-47 is ready to serve."

Further questioning determined that no, HK-47 did not know what had happened to him, or indeed where he was. He seemed to feel Canderous and T3-M4 were vaguely familiar, but he didn't know why or how. He was as bloodthirsty as Canderous had claimed, though he expressed himself much more quaintly than the HK-50 units, so much so that sometimes he was almost funny. But Darden had also clearly gotten off on the wrong foot with him, first by informing him of the HK-50 line, and then by immediately placing restrictions on his assassination protocols. Nevertheless, he answered her questions, though disappointed she did not torture him to compel him to do so.

Eventually they got around to talking about the HK-50 units, because, though HK-47 was obviously different—rustier, pigmented differently, with more personality—he was also obviously the standard upon which some idiot had tried to improve the line. When Darden asked about the first HK-50's tactic of masquerading as a protocol droid and taking out the _Harbinger _from within, HK-47 answered, "Answer: Master, as part of my original programming, I am able to communicate in over six hundred languages. This usually amounted to short verbal warnings when killing non-Basic speaking targets, which gave me some small measure of satisfaction."

They were mostly alone now. The rest of the crew had gotten bored or annoyed with HK-47 and dispersed over the rest of the ship. Atton was cleaning the synthesizer, because it was his turn, and T3-M4 was working on the main hold console. Darden had sat down on a bench, but she was still interested in finding out as much about these HK droids that kept attacking her as possible. "So a good bit of your programming was adapted from protocol subroutines?" she asked.

"Answer: Yes, I believe my original Master needed this functionality in order to recover information from various indigenous tribes across the galaxy, but I know little else. Suffice to say that translation capability allows these…copies of myself to assume the role of protocol and translation droids in much of known space. That is, of course, not their primary function. And while they are attempting to pass themselves off as translation droids, their primary functionality will of necessity keep rising to the forefront."

"How do you mean?" Darden asked.

HK-47's eyes glowed. "Recitation: For example, on Praven Prime, the simple transferring of L'Xing syntax for 'friendship' changes its meaning, and implies that one's brood mate was actually impregnated by one's own host."

Atton laughed from where he was putting the pieces of the synthesizer back together again. "Tell me no one said that out loud. Did they?"

HK-47 swiveled his head to look at Atton. "Confirmation: Oh, truly," he said, sounding pleased. "You can imagine the results. Statement: This comment, of course, caused a civil war between the Gu-vandi Collective and the L'Xing that persists to this current date."

Darden couldn't laugh, however ridiculous the original misinterpretation. "It wouldn't stop there, thought," she said. "These incidents have to have a bigger effect."

Atton stopped smiling, and started loading the synthesizer with the vitamin-rich base foodstuff that it would use to produce meals for them. "Answer: Yes, Master," HK-47 admitted. "Such incidents often spread outwards from their point of origin, much like an echo."

Darden looked up sharply as Kreia touched her mind. But she didn't need the hint. "Echo? Why use that word?"

HK-47's motivators stalled. "Answer: It is something I heard a previous Master say before, I believe," he said finally. "But I cannot recall he context. Still, somehow it seemed applicable to this situation. Odd."

Darden hesitated, but she didn't think he could answer the questions she had about that. So instead she asked, "What effect is Praven Prime having?"

Atton finished with the synthesizer and gave an ironic wave and an exaggerated yawn behind HK-47's back. Darden bit back a smile, and he went off to the cockpit. "Answer: In the case of Praven Prime," HK-47 answered, "The Civil War actually forced the Republic to back out of Gu-vandi space and let their world fall from Republic control. As I understand it, that would be best. Keeping such a world would have been a token gesture of control. As an added burden, the resources needed to invest in diplomatic and trade relations would have far outweighed what would have been required.

"Besides, Master," he added in a different tone, "Quite frankly, the Gu-vandi and the L'Xing needed a good war. They were races that relied more on words than actions, and a good, brisk killing woke them from their torpid state. Also, the result of the war will be that the drastically reduced L'Xing population will eventually need to call upon the Republic for emergency relief."

Darden grimaced. His words sounded something like some of the things Kreia said, which was only a reason to be worried. "And that's a good thing, is it?" she asked.

"Answer: The Republic stands to gain," explained HK-47. "The Republic will be able to supply such emergency relief at a fraction of the cost to the now-reduced population. Of course, such aid would only come four or five years after the war was started. One would have to be patient and let death and destruction run its course."

"All this because of a mistranslation," Darden said quietly. "Well. You've explained quite well how an HK droid might masquerade as a protocol droid, and what might happen if they did. But why would they do so in the first place?"

"Answer:" answered HK-47 in an annoyed tone, "Master, being a meatbag, your answer does not surprise me. You see, part of the reason an assassin droid is so effective is because it is a droid. Meatbags tend not to notice us. We are treated as furnishings."

T3-M4 beeped indignantly, then whistled sadly, agreeing with the truth of the assessment.

HK-47 looked at T3-M4, and his eyes glowed. "Statement: Oh, do shut up, you beeping little trash compactor. As I was saying, droids tend to blend into the background. Like a bench. Or a card table."

"You might be right," Darden admitted, "But it shouldn't be like that. When sentients make droids, they should love them and take care of them."

Teethree chirped his approval, and HK-47 looked around, as if for a weapon. "Statement: Part of the love of my function comes when the 'furnishings' pull out tibanna-powered rifles and point them at the owner's heads," he said. "My identity as an assassin droid was unknown for quite some time, even during the recent events when all that trouble occurred amongst the Jedi. I'm sure you've already heard more than enough about that, so I will spare you the details."

Darden considered getting up, but just then Mira rounded the corner, heading for the fresher. Darden sighed, remembering who she was avoiding, and sat back and crossed her arms. "Please don't," she said. "Your outlook could be interesting."

"Statement: Very well, Master," HK-47 said, sounding pleased. "There is a faction of meatbags called the Sith. They want what any rational meatbag would want: the power to assassinate anyone they choose at any time. In a startling turn of events, the Sith declared war on the Republic. The Republic wasn't going to stand for it, so they went to war right back."

Darden laughed, despite herself. "Why do you think the Sith did go to war on the Republic?" she asked.

"Answer: Oh, who knows, Master," HK-47 said wearily. "It is evident that the Sith would very much like to assassinate all the Jedi. Which is somewhat the equivalent of cultural suicide, since some Sith are Jedi or were Jedi. It is very much like the circumstance I find myself in now. How do you kill such an integral part of yourself over such ethical differences? The answer is, of course, that you keep firing until all dissension has been eradicated."

He was obviously back on the topic of the HK-50 droids. Darden shook her head. "You really hate these droids, don't you?"

"Answer: My 'feelings' on the matter are something I feel I must put in proper context, in a way that even a meatbag such as yourself could easily comprehend," he said peevishly. "Theory: Imagine, if you will, that you are unique. The pinnacle of an exiled, cast-out Jedi who can't even use the Force. Imagine that no one has sunk lower than you. That you are truly the most miserable example of a Jedi ever."

Darden looked at him. He couldn't know all that. Not unless he'd heard it. Not unless Revan had told him. Not unless Revan, or Aithne Morrigan, or whatever she called herself now remembered her, and had discussed her at some length with the droid. But why would Revan have done that? What connection did Revan still feel to her? She pressed her lips together. "Is this going somewhere?"

"Continuation: Now that you have that image, imagine this: someone clones you. Badly, I might add. They make the clones talk differently, rob you of any shred of personality, and take your Jedi Code and adjust it so that it is not really the Jedi Code anymore. They even change your pigmentation to a rather poor shade of durasteel, rather than the proper rusty red that inspires fear in targets. And of course, they refer to meatbags as 'organics'. Unacceptable."

"Huh. Atton was thorough in his report on those droids," Darden observed. "Visuals and everything. If I paid him, I'd have to give him a raise. Well. I can see why you might be angry."

"Clarification:" HK-47 clarified. "'Anger' would be an understatement for the heat that builds up in my behavior core thinking of how these cheap imitations are making their presence felt throughout the galaxy. Statement: Part of the indignity of these copies is that they impair my ability to perform my function. The more people throughout the galaxy that recognize me as an illegal assassination device, the more difficulty I will have in carrying out my missions."

"Maybe so," Darden said, standing. "But you're not carrying out any missions unless I say so. Remember that."

* * *

THE NEXT DAY, 1000 HOURS

Darden was back from the swoop track, juggling a couple hundred credits. She figured if they got maybe three hundred more, they could fuel the _Ebon Hawk_ up and burn sky. Visas and Mandalore were with her, providing backup, when the three of them caught sight of Mira, fighting off a thug. Mandalore raised his blaster, but Darden held up a hand. Mira dodged the thug's vibroblade, ducked up under his guard, and jabbed him in the chest with a stun syringe. She took some cuffs out of her belt, cuffed the unconscious man, and nodded at Darden and the others. "He's worth 200 credits to a small-time Exchange boss," she said. "Cheated him in a deal, then broke and ran for it. Figure I could collect the bounty and help out with the bills. See you back on the ship."

She dragged the thug away, hardly stumbling at all beneath his weight.

Mandalore watched her go. "That one's got guts," he said. "Raised by Mandalorians. Did you know?"

"Yeah," Darden said. "Did she talk to you about it?"

"She came and said hello," Canderous admitted. "Wanted to know if I was really Mandalore, and what I thought of you. You've impressed her, Leona. Get the feeling that takes some doing."

"Wait. She doesn't hate me?"

Mandalore shrugged. "Talk to her yourself if you want to know. I'm not the evening news."

* * *

1300 HOURS, _EBON HAWK_

"Why didn't you kill him?" Darden asked, leaning up against the door frame and looking into the storage compartment, where Mira, for whatever reason, had decided to hang out. "The thug. This morning. You know the Exchange boss is probably just gonna kill him."

"Maybe, maybe not," Mira said. "I've killed people before. But I don't like to. Not if I don't have to. What happens after they leave me is their business. The job's over."

She still shifted uneasily. Darden sensed her unrest in the Force.

"You realize all life is connected, don't you?" Darden asked gently. "And after Malachor, you feel you can't kill, or shouldn't. You see the family of everyone you hunt."

"Oh, do I?" demanded Mira, straightening. She was taller than Darden, and she made Darden feel it now, looking down at her with flashing eyes. "How you could ever possibly hope to understand is beyond me. You…you never had a family. You gave that order at Malachor. You didn't care about the life there."

"So why are you still here, if you believe that?" Darden challenged her. "Why are you asking Canderous about me? You know I did. Or at least, you know I care about the life here, and it's driving you crazy trying to figure it out. You want to know the truth? The truth is I care about life here, and I cared about life there. I cared about life afterwards. I gave that order to end a war, and protect millions of people that would have died if it hadn't ended. I wanted to protect others, protect life. Even there. And I did."

"Get away from me!" Mira hissed. "The next time you come and ask me a question, I swear I'll shoot you in the head and dump you down one of the canyons right out there. I swear I will."

Darden held up her hands, and backed away slowly.

T3-M4 rolled in then, beeping frantically. Darden went over to him. "Hey, what's up?"

He whistled he'd just received a message from Dxun, from the Mandalorians there.

Darden tensed. "Play it," she said.

A holo of Kelborn appeared. Mandalore walked in and straightened, listening. Apparently, things were bad on Onderon. The Queen and Master Kavar were both requesting Darden's presence in Iziz, as a matter of urgency. Darden looked at Mandalore. "We got the credits we need today," she said. "We'll leave tomorrow morning."

She went up to the cockpit to tell Atton.

* * *

1800 HOURS, _EBON HAWK_

MIRA

Mira didn't know what she was still doing here. The _Ebon Hawk_ was full of crazy, broken people, more lost than almost anyone outside its boarding ramp. And these people were supposed to save the galaxy. Mira'd been around them enough the last three days to know Visas and the Handmaiden didn't know what they were or who they served, Bao-Dur and Mandalore were still fighting (and both losing) the Mandalorian Wars, every single droid on the ship was absolutely insane, and Atton wasn't a fool, but he acted like one, which was worse. Mira hadn't figured Kreia out yet, but she wasn't really sure she wanted to. And as for General Darden Leona…Mira didn't want to understand her, either. Because if she did, she had a feeling some opinions were gonna change, and they weren't gonna be Darden's. And Mira liked the way things were. Or at least, she did okay.

Was it really so bad on Nar Shaddaa? Was she really so bored? She guessed there was more to see, more to do. And sure, the galaxy was messed up and stopping the Sith and fixing the Republic would go a long way to putting things right. Maybe.

Mira prodded moodily at the gunk on her tray, then started eating. At least there were three regular meals a day here, which was more than she got sometimes on Nar Shaddaa, if pickings were slim.

Darden walked in. Her eyebrows were drawn together, and she was frowning worriedly. She was probably freaked about her old Master on Onderon. Leaving in the morning after the fuel vehicle came was the best that they could do, but meanwhile there was a war on in Iziz, and they couldn't make it to Dxun for seventeen days or so, Canderous had said. Anything could happen in seventeen days. Mira suddenly felt a little more charitable towards Darden Leona. If she'd been telling the truth, and her old Jedi Masters were family, it must be hard to hear they were in trouble, and to be uncertain she could get there in time to help them.

Darden caught sight of her, and pressed her lips together. When Mira didn't look away, though, she nodded, got her own tray of synthesizer gunk (orange today) and a glass of water and came to sit gingerly next to Mira on the bench. "You aren't going to shoot me and dump me down a canyon, are you?" she asked, half-joking.

Mira rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"

"I wanted to apologize," Darden said. "I should've been more sensitive, earlier."

Mira looked at her, and relaxed. She meant it. "No. You said what you thought. Don't worry about it. It's just a sore subject with me."

Darden nodded, and played with her fork. "I am sorry you lost your family at Malachor, though," she said, quietly. Mira added another one to the count of those on board that were still fighting in the wars.

"Yeah, well, they're dead," Mira said. "That's how that story ends. But not everybody's story has to end with losing their family or their loved ones." She looked up at Darden, wanting to make sure she understood, "And not all the bounty hunting I do is for criminals and killers. My favorite jobs aren't like that at all."

"What are your favorite jobs?" Darden asked, drinking some water. She hadn't touched her food.

Mira ate some of her goo. It wasn't bad today, she thought. "There's a lot of lost people out there, scattered ever since the Mandalorian Wars," she said. "Sometimes…it's like you can almost hear them, like an echo, calling out for each other. And maybe, just maybe, by finding them, I can start putting the galaxy back together. My favorite jobs are when I help people find one another."

Darden's expression had changed. She'd put down her water and pushed aside her tray, and she was staring at Mira now with this weird, intent expression. A…a focus Mira had seen last night during lessons with Bao-Dur, Visas, and Atton. It freaked her out, a little.

"You know," Darden said slowly, "The Jedi believe everybody and everything is connected by the Force. They'd say one small act of kindness sends ripples, echoes, out through the entire galaxy, and that you are putting the galaxy together every time you make a connection and find someone that's lost."

Mira felt strange, as if something around her had shifted, or the floor beneath her feet had rumbled. Maybe the landing pad was giving way, but she didn't think so, somehow. It was like walking out over Nar Shaddaa, but more focused, more powerful. She shifted, looking away from Darden. "Maybe there's something to that," she said uneasily. "We'll see. I don't know why I'm telling you all this. You aren't getting anything else out of me."

The right corner of Darden's mouth turned up. "It's not an interrogation, Mira. I gotta go, though. Lessons with Kreia. Listen, if you want to sit in on my lessons with the others again tonight, you can. The Handmaiden's nearly always there. Nobody minds."

* * *

DARDEN

Kreia was waiting in the women's dormitory. Though Visas and Mira both slept there at night with them, everyone cleared the women's dormitory during the day, mostly because Kreia didn't. She was sitting, as was her habit, on the floor with her back to the door. She heard Darden come in.

"You reach out to the huntress now," she said flatly.

Darden went around and sat opposite her. "She's stronger in the Force than anyone on board, Kreia, save you and me, even the Handmaiden. If I'm training the others, I ought to train her."

"Yes; she has been gifted with the feel of the Force. She senses its currents, its eddies, and she uses them to hunt down her prey. But merely being gifted with Force does not mean she has the mind of a Jedi. The Jedi Order did not accept all who felt the Force, or could feel it. A Jedi has other qualities, qualities of the mind. Does the huntress?"

"Do I?" Darden retorted. "What is a Jedi Knight? More to the point, what is it _now_?"

Kreia's withered mouth turned up at the corners. "Yes, that is the question, is it not? What is a Jedi Knight _now_? The Master we came to find on Nar Shaddaa claims to have forsaken the Order, to have exiled himself. The one we return to on Onderon may have done likewise. We may find in the end that all remains of the Jedi is an exiled war veteran, and those lost souls that cleave to her for direction in this dark time."

Darden was silent. _Opponent draws a 6, draw a 3. Totals are 10-7. _

Kreia's smile widened. "The huntress will learn from you," she said. "Though her senses have been sharpened through years of fear, of struggle, her spirit needs one such as you. She is a child, in some ways far more of one than the servant of Atris. Too long has she trembled in the dark alone, too long has she run. She craves the protection, the so-called peace one such as you can give her. Her dependence upon you may be of some use."

"I certainly do think her tracking and survival skills will be of use," Darden admitted. "It's mostly the credits she brought in from that bounty that are getting us off the ground tomorrow."

Kreia frowned again. "Your mind is restless. You fear for the one that was your master, that we may not arrive in time to rescue him from the path he has chosen."

"He might have been fine if we hadn't aggravated tensions in Iziz looking for him in the first place," Darden admitted quietly.

"He might have been," Kreia agreed, "And you do well to remember the echoes you send through the galaxy everywhere you step. But that is not at issue here. Come. Many things have you relearned and much have you practiced. But one thing you continually neglect. Sit with me, and calm your mind. Empty it of thoughts and worries, of fear and anger. Only when you are centered can you act with head and heart."

Darden recognized truth in her words. So she sighed, closed her eyes, and emptied her mind. Only when it was empty could she risk opening it to the Force, and to Kreia.

* * *

900 HOURS THE NEXT DAY, _EBON HAWK_

The sewage vehicle had just departed after emptying the tanks beneath the _Ebon Hawk_'s refresher. The fuel vehicle was on its way. After they'd fueled, Atton could initiate the departure sequence, and they'd be out of here around noon. But Mira was impatient. Darden watched her over her breakfast tray with some amusement. She'd made three laps of the ship once she'd gotten up at 830, and after she'd tired of that, had walked across the floor of the main hold thirteen times at the last count. Fourteen.

Darden laughed. "Mira, you're wearing a hole in the hull. Bao-Dur and Teethree don't need more to fix. What's up?"

"It's too _quiet _on this ship," Mira snapped, shaking her head.

Darden raised an eyebrow. Outside, she could hear Atton yelling at the fueling supervisor, who apparently had just insulted the _Ebon Hawk_. Blaster fire and Echani battle cries were emanating from the cargo hold, where the Handmaiden and Mandalore had had the bright idea of sparring together. HK-47 and G0-T0 were having some sort of unfriendly discussion in the garage. T3-M4 rolled by, beeping ill-temperedly. Bao-Dur, Visas, and Kreia were quiet. But Bao-Dur, Visas, and Kreia were nearly always quiet. Still, it was a remarkably _unquiet_ morning in general. "Quiet?" Darden chuckled.

Mira looked a little sheepish, but started pacing again. "Yeah," she answered defensively. "I mean, we're just sitting here. We're going to be sitting here for the next three hours at least."

"Well we can't leave without fuel," Darden shrugged. "And then Atton has to get our route from Teethree. Our navicomputer's locked and we can't get in. It usually takes a while, especially when Teethree's already mad." She looked over her shoulder. Bangs were coming from the communications/conference room. "He's upset about HK-47," she murmured. "Though as far as I can tell, _he's_ the one that thought it would be a good idea for me to have an assassin droid."

Mira rolled her eyes. "Everybody's upset about HK-47," she said. "Did we really need another crazy droid, Darden?" She tried to sit down, but stood up immediately. "Ugh…I need to get out of here. I need people around. Activity. Life."

Darden frowned. "You really like it here, don't you?" she said. "Mira, are you _sure_ you're okay to leave with us?"

"I think so," Mira said. She frowned, and then she did sit down. "This isn't weird, is it? I mean, Nar Shaddaa might be one of the biggest cesspits in the galaxy, but…the life here, the activity. Aliens, humans, refugees…it's like noise, but relaxing. Like the hum of a hyperdrive."

"Or rattle-rattle-click, if it's ours," Darden cracked. She looked at Mira, though. The bounty hunter was regarding her with nervous eyes. Her fingers drummed on the bench beside her. The Force was swirling around her. "Look. Kreia showed me something once. How to listen to Nar Shaddaa…how to hear the connections between the life here, how it's all bound together."

Mira snorted, but she relaxed. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't go that far. I'll believe it when I see it. Or hear it. Whatever."

"Would you like to? I think you could."

"Would it mean getting off this ship?" Mira asked

"For a while, yeah," Darden answered.

"Then I'm in," Mira said. "I doubt you'll show me anything I don't already know, but I need some noise."

More blaster fire from the cargo hold. Darden looked at Mira.

"Real noise," Mira qualified.

Darden rolled her eyes and got up, adjusting her lightsaber on her belt.

Mira got up, too. She followed Darden to the exit ramp. "Darden?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't act like a tourist," she said. "It attracts predators."

She smiled, because she didn't mean it, and Darden smiled, because she knew Mira didn't mean it. They went down the ramp. Atton saw them go and lifted a hand to wave them off, then went right back to yelling at the fuel supervisor. Bao-Dur, standing by, smiled wryly.

Darden laughed, waved at them, and led Mira away from the landing pad. "You didn't bring much on board," she said as they passed Tienn's shop. "If you want to stop by your place we could get your stuff."

Mira shrugged. "There's not much to get. I liked to keep mobile. Like I told you, you make people mad, bounty hunting on Nar Shaddaa. Brought my pack to the ship yesterday. Couple changes of clothes, few hundred credits, extra power pack. I travel light."

"Like the Mandalorians," Darden said.

"What can I say? It sticks with you," Mira said. Her voice was tight, but not hostile. "Canderous is a good one," she said after a pause. "Like my family was. He says you're alright, too."

Darden didn't look at her, and let the conversation lapse into silence. They came into the square, and Darden rounded the canyon with Mira, then stopped, and nodded. "This is it," she said.

Mira crossed her arms. "So what's the big deal about this place? Prove I can 'listen' to Nar Shaddaa, Jedi."

Darden smiled. She could feel the moon pulsing again, faintly. Not like before, but she knew Mira, more in tune to this place than she was or ever would be, would feel it much more strongly. "Sure. Close your eyes," she said.

Mira did so at once, proving that she did have a little courage after all and wasn't entirely hung up on how people saw her. Darden nodded slightly. That was good. She felt Mira's mind, open, slightly doubtful, slightly afraid, but ready to hear.

"Listen to Nar Shaddaa," she said. "You told me how you walk, how you feel the currents of this moon. Feel them now. A simple kindness _can_ help heal the entire galaxy."

Mira suddenly trembled. Darden felt the Force impressing itself on the young woman's mind.

"What you're feeling, right now: it's the Force," she said softly. "All our choices, from the greatest to the smallest, affect others. Ripples in a pond, or echoes, traveling out. Feel it?"

Mira was shaking harder now. "Wha—I can feel this planet!" she cried. "I can't shut it out!" Impulsively, with an untrained mind, she reached for Darden with the Force, touched her thoughts. Darden heard a fraction of what she heard and winced, even as she welcomed it. She opened herself to Nar Shaddaa, too, and realized vaguely that the people here sounded more hopeful than they had the last time she had heard them. "It's louder now…" Mira said, gripping her head between her hands. "It hurts! All these people…"

Darden pulled Mira's hands away from her ears, held them in hers. She pressed upon Mira the vitality, the beauty of this life, the brilliance of it. Then she opened her own mind to Mira, and Mira recognized what was happening, and went still. "In the middle of all the life on Nar Shaddaa, when we first met, I didn't recognize it," Darden told her. "But when you helped save me from Goto's yacht, I realized, and it's been getting clearer and clearer these past few days as I've talked to you, gotten to know you. Mira, you're Force Sensitive. I can train you to use the Force to feel the currents of life, wherever you are. I can train you to use them to protect others."

Mira opened her eyes. She squeezed Darden's hands so tightly she cut off the circulation. "That's what I want," she said quickly. "More than anything. I want to be like you; I want to be strong. I don't want to be afraid or alone anymore. I…I…I…don't want to keep running, and looking, and never feel like I'm finding what I'm looking for. I'm tired of being hunted. When the galaxy takes something from me, I want the power to let go…and I want the power to heal the echo when it's gone."

Darden went still now, as she realized she hadn't been the only one listening carefully the past three days. She hesitated. "Learning to be a Jedi won't fix everything, Mira," she said at last. "The echoes don't go away. But learning to be a Jedi might help you to accept them, to move on, and to be at peace."

Mira loosened her grip on Darden's hands, and nodded. "I understand. But…that still sounds alright, from where I'm standing. Help me move on?"

"Yeah," Darden said. "We'll start by going back to the _Ebon Hawk_."

* * *

**A/N: I couldn't see any way to cover what needs to be covered without altogether too much Mira in this chapter. Don't get me wrong. I love Mira. It's just, Darden has 10 crewmates at this point. Don't really feel like that came across here. Though I tried. I hope you didn't hate it, at any rate. **

**Don't hate me if I don't update in a hurry. It's the end of the semester, and I have papers to write and finals (and graduation!) to prep for. **

**Reviews are welcome!**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	23. Strength

**Disclaimer: I would like to claim this chapter. But legally I cannot.**

* * *

XXII.

Strength

HANDMAIDEN

COMING INTO DXUN

The Exile wanted something from her. Darden's eyes were often upon her, watching her movements. Darden's own movements spoke of what she wished. She knew the desires of the Handmaiden's heart, knew she wished to know and experience what Darden knew and experienced, what they all knew and experienced now, save the Mandalorian, who could not feel the Force. The Handmaiden knew Darden could teach her of the Jedi, of their forms of battle, of their Force. She knew Darden wanted to teach her. And she wanted to learn.

Each day she left the cargo hold in the evening, when the lightsabers hummed and Darden's voice rang out like a bell, speaking of war, and peace, and knowledge, telling secrets of the history of the Jedi, stories of great warriors and leaders and teachers. Her movements spoke out even more clearly, telling of her conviction, her passion, and her brilliance. To watch her was to see a star burning, glowing ever brighter as the days, weeks, and months passed. It was beautiful. She was changing the others. The solitary Iridonian that before had only understood droids and machines had bonded with his fellow students, especially the Sith. His anger was smoothed away by the day and peace flowed out of his movements. The Sith was learning to love once more, not only the Exile she had sworn loyalty to, but the other crew members, and the galaxy. Still her movements were weighted with sorrow and pain, but more and more there was wisdom and serenity in her face, too. Atton so often acted the fool. Still he hid how he felt, what he was, disguising himself with both words and movement. But the Handmaiden could see past his mask, and underneath, he, too, was changing. Courage was replacing fear, and strength was replacing weakness. Sometimes the Handmaiden thought the fool might someday deserve the feelings Darden hid in her heart for him like a secret she herself had not fathomed, yet. The huntress had only been with them a short time. Her words were often harsh; her movements brusque and efficient, like a Mandalorian's. But Darden was already breaking past the harshness the huntress wrapped about herself like armor, and there was a new peace in the huntress' face, these last few weeks, a new confidence in her movements as she took her first stumbling steps training with the vibroblade before she built her own lightsaber.

The Handmaiden craved what the others had found under Darden's tutelage. She thirsted for it like water in the desert. Many times she had almost crossed the floor and asked for training. Then she remembered her father. Yusanis had broken his oath to his wife. He had betrayed his family, betrayed the Handmaiden's sisters. He had dishonored them. Her sisters claimed she bore that dishonor, that she was a traitor, as her father had been a traitor. And more than anything the Handmaiden feared proving them right, by breaking her oath to Atris.

She did not feel Atris deserved this oath anymore. She had watched Darden upon Dxun, Onderon, and Nar Shaddaa, and in the _Ebon Hawk_. Not only could Darden wield the Force, she was unfallen. Her every movement, her every action, testified to it. Thousands of refugees testified to it. And when she spoke of Malachor, her voice and expression clearly spoke her heart still bled for those that had died there, for the Handmaiden's mother, for the Mandalorian's people, for all of them. Atris was wrong about Darden. And if Atris had been wrong about Darden, it was possible she had been wrong about other things. Perhaps many things. The Handmaiden felt that Darden Leona did deserve her loyalty, full and uncompromised. Yet she would not turn traitor. So she watched, and she hurt, and she tried to be contented teaching Darden the Echani movements, and communicating her feelings through their fights alone. Yet still Darden watched her.

She did not often do so, though. She was worried. She feared for her Master on Onderon. She found meditation difficult in the evenings, and spent much of her time in the cockpit, not playing pazaak or talking with the fool like she had done before the Mandalorians sent their message, but urging him on, wishing they could tunnel through hyperspace more rapidly.

So it was good that they would be landing in a few hours in the Mandalorian camp. It was good that there would be battles to fight, instead of this waiting around. In the meantime, the Handmaiden busied herself readying her weapon. It would be needed.

* * *

MANDALORIAN CAMP

ATTON

So here they all were, gathered around in the Mandalorian communications blister. They hadn't had to hike through the jungle this time. Canderous had radioed ahead to the camp to allow them to land the _Ebon Hawk_ right in the camp. Darden had called for everyone to follow her, without explaining. Atton figured it was a Force thing. At any rate, none of them had asked any questions.

One of the Mandalorians in charge, a big, young-sounding guy in red armor (of course you couldn't really tell what with the helmet), had stepped forward, clasped Mandalore's arm, and nodded at Darden.

"You received my message, then?" he said straight away. "A man named Kavar wanted to get a hold of you urgently. He said that the Queen had arranged safe passage to Onderon for you. But I don't know how good their offer is anymore."

Darden focused in immediately. "The Civil War I started went terminal," she said flatly. "How?"

The Mandalorian shook his head. "There hasn't been a civil war until today. The skirmishes and riots started weeks ago, true, with the military divided on whom to support. But this morning General Vaklu met with the Council of Lords and declared that the Queen was guilty of treason. He'll be made Regent if Talia and her Royal Guard are defeated this day."

"We have to help her," Darden said.

"I doubt that Queen Talia and her advisor will survive until nightfall," the Mandalorian said grimly. "The balance of forces seemed to favor Queen Talia. The Royal Palace is heavily fortified and defensible, and most of the soldiers are loyal to her. But Vaklu has new allies: Sith soldiers and their masters. The war has also driven the caged beasts in the streets mad. Bralor and I both concur: she doesn't stand a chance."

"You underestimate the Force, Mandalorian," Kreia said. "I sense we may still get to Master Kavar in time. I sense there is something…stirring on the moon itself. Tell me: have your sensors picked up anything from Dxun?"

The Mandalorian looked down at Kreia and stepped back, uneasy. _Welcome to our world, buddy. She makes everybody uncomfortable, _Atton thought. "Y…yes. Yes we have. How…? We picked up some transmissions from nearby in the jungle. Zuka's satellite relay has also picked up several shuttle launches with old Sith transmitter IDs. Some sort of staging base, perhaps."

Kreia looked at Darden. "The Sith forces must be stopped," she said firmly. "Otherwise the Mandalorian is right: Master Kavar and Queen Talia won't survive this day."

"Dividing our forces at a time like this is foolhardy," Mandalore objected.

Kreia rounded on him like a pit viper. "And this is why a common soldier will never triumph against a Jedi," she spat. "Your military 'tactics' are nothing compared to the Force. It is essential, and inevitable, that we face both enemies at the same time."

"No," Darden said. "She's right." She started pacing, gaining energy. Something in her had come alive that Atton hadn't seen before, not when they were taking down Czerka on Telos or the Exchange on Nar Shaddaa or escaping from any number of nasty spots. She was more focused, somehow, more direct than he had ever seen her. There was a dangerous intensity about her. Beside Atton, Bao-Dur focused, too. He stood up straighter, like a soldier, and Atton realized what he was seeing. This was a battle they were going into, a battle proper, and Darden was stepping into the role she had occupied last time she was here.

"We've got to come at this from three sides," she said, quite calmly. "Kelborn. How far is the staging base?"

"About nine kilometers, we think," said the Mandalorian in red. Darden nodded.

"Right. We have to attack the base. Any Dark Jedi focused on the battle in Iziz must be disrupted. Any shuttles they have available to take more troops or supplies to Vaklu's men must be disabled. The attack team has to have backup, a defense team keeping the path back here clear and guarding this camp and the _Ebon Hawk_ in case of retaliation. Finally, some of us have to go to Iziz, to Master Kavar's and Queen Talia's aid." She stopped, breathed in, and closed her eyes. Atton knew that look. She was thinking, calculating rapidly like some sort of droid. He didn't like that look. It meant he was about to hear something he wouldn't like.

She turned her heel to face Canderous. "Mandalore?"

"My men will hold the fort down here, don't worry. I'll lead them." There was no room for argument in his voice or posture, and Darden didn't give any. Instead, she bowed slightly.

"I know you will. I leave you Mira and the droids to help keep the path clear and defend the _Ebon Hawk_." She lowered her voice. HK-47, standing near the door looking out at the camp and waving his blaster rifle somewhat erratically, probably couldn't make her words out, but Atton could. "Try and control HK-47, will you? Send him out shooting cannoks and malraas that try to block the attack team's path back."

Canderous' helmet turned to regard the rusty droid. "Not the first time I've watched that crazy droid," he said in the same low tone. "You ask me, disabling it would be a lot easier."

"Maybe so," Darden conceded. "But I'm not sure he won't shoot anyone that tries." She stood up straight. "Mira? You don't have any objections to rear guard, do you?"

Atton looked over at Mira. She was a spitfire. He was expecting her to object, but to his surprise, she was smiling. "You know I don't," she said quietly, looking around the camp with a much softer expression than Atton had ever seen on her face, hardened by years of living on Nar Shaddaa. He'd noticed the bounty hunter palled around with Canderous, but he hadn't thought much of it until now. Now for the first time he thought there might be something more to it. He wondered what Darden knew. Anyway, Darden's newest student added, in a more normal tone, "Just remember: you're still my bounty! Come back, or I'll come get you."

Darden clapped her on the shoulder. "I'll keep it in mind," she said.

She swallowed then. Stood up straighter. Atton had a bad feeling about this. "I'm going to have to go to Iziz," she said slowly. "And Kreia is coming with me." Kreia nodded with satisfaction, and Atton felt the usual rush of hatred towards the hag, the usual doubt as to the game she was playing. But Darden continued, "That leaves four of you to either come with me or lead the attack on the Sith base here."

Atton tensed. He had to go with her, had to protect her, watch her back in case she got in trouble. She knew that, right? He looked at her, and she met his gaze directly. She spoke to all of them, but she looked right at him. "It is mandatory that the Sith here on Dxun be confronted, as important as the defense of Iziz and its Queen. If the job is not done, I _will fail_." She drew in a breath. "The Handmaiden will accompany me and Kreia to Iziz. Atton, I want you to lead Bao-Dur and Visas against the Sith."

Atton went cold. But he forced a laugh, anyway. Because that was what he did. "Hey. Hacking through the jungle and who knows how many Sith? Sounds like a job for me. As usual."

No one else laughed. "It shall be as you wish," Visas said at last, after a very long, awkward pause, to Darden.

Bao-Dur looked at Atton doubtfully, then back at Darden. "We'll get it done, General," he said, saluting. He didn't sound confident. Atton didn't blame him.

"Er…I guess we're in a hurry," he said to them. "Get your stuff. Shields, lightsabers, tools to disable mines and slice consoles. We don't know what we're going to run into." His voice was getting steadier. He thanked the Force for that, at least. "Bao-Dur, you and I should both bring a blaster as well as our lightsabers." He nodded once, twice. Visas and Bao-Dur looked at him. Well, Bao-Dur looked. Visas just sensed. But then they left the communications blister to get their gear from the _Ebon Hawk_. Atton already had his.

The Handmaiden and Mira filed out behind them, and Mandalore nodded at Kelborn and the droids and did likewise. Atton was left alone with Darden and Kreia. Darden glared at Kreia for a moment, before the old lady shifted, and left as well.

"Well. This is a great idea," Atton said. "Can't possibly go wrong." All the while he stared at the floor, and wished fervently that Darden didn't trust him quite _so_ much.

"Let go of your fear," she said, quietly. "You've let it master you for too long. You are more than your past, and more than your fear, and it's time you lived up to it. You're going to succeed in this, Atton."

"Yeah? How do you know?" he said, still unable to look at her. Maybe he might've been able to do this, once. They wouldn't have known he was coming. He could've taken them all out. But now he felt the hearts beating around him, felt the Force in everything. Now he was a Jedi, or something like one, anyway. Now he could fall, now he could fail, fail her. Now it mattered.

She seized both his hands. "Because you know the Sith," she said quietly, fiercely. "And you _left_. Because you will _never_ give up in this mission, or let Bao-Dur and Visas give up, because you know what depends on it."

That made him angry. She was using him, playing off stuff she knew about him, or had guessed about him. He shook her off and looked down at her furiously, only to see an expression on her face that stopped him completely.

She stepped back, looking away. "If you need me," she murmured, "I will be there with you. Just open up your mind and reach for me. Even on Onderon, I'll be there."

She ran. Because while he cracked wise and joked about stuff that wasn't funny, that's what_ she_ did. Atton's anger left him, and so did his fear, largely. She was right, of course. He'd take care of this, because it needed to be done, because _she_ needed him to do it. And she'd take care of what she needed to on Onderon, because that was who she was. She'd worry about them. She'd worry about him. And when the fighting was over, she'd look for him first, and probably punch him, because she'd been a Jedi and a soldier her entire life, and didn't know how to be a woman, even though he was starting to really think she might want to.

He grabbed his pack. He'd already had everything he might need. Life on the Rim had taught him to be prepared for anything. He exited the communications blister, looking up at the sky over the camp musingly. It was a nice day on Dxun. The sky was gray and it wasn't raining now. Would probably start up again in ten minutes, but for now, things were okay.

Bao-Dur and Visas were waiting for him out by the camp exit. With them were Mira, HK-47, and half a dozen Mandalorians. Mira came up to him. The bounty hunter was looking much more relaxed than he had ever seen her. She nodded at a Mandalorian in yellow armor. "Bao-Dur told me you were fixing the ship last time you guys were around here. This is Xarga. In charge of recruits, and also our rear guard. Mandalore's personally commanding the defense of the camp, the ship, and keeping watch over communications with Iziz. T3-M4 and G0-T0 are staying with him, but HK-47 and I are going with you, to help hold the path while you take out the base."

She hefted up the pack on her shoulder and smiled at him, and Atton remembered that after all it wasn't his first time in charge of a mission. It was strange to think, but he'd sort of led that time they'd rescued Darden from Goto's yacht, hadn't he?

He nodded at Xarga. "Hey. Atton Rand. Point the way. We should be going."

Xarga jerked his thumb south. "Our sensors have picked up the transmissions due south. Follow me. We Mandalorians will clear the path of beasts for you."

There was a trace of a sneer in his voice. Mira spoke up. "Hey!" Then she said something in Mando'a, and Xarga stepped back with a laugh. He shook her hand, and set off.

Atton looked at Mira, raising an eyebrow. She raised one back. Atton followed Xarga, and Bao-Dur and Visas followed him. Mira and the other Mandalorians brought up the rear.

"So you're Mandalorian?" Atton called back to her, drawing his blaster as Xarga drew his and shot into a pack of cannoks. He shot two out and set another limping. Xarga killed it and the fourth. They kept going.

"Nah, don't follow the _Resol'nare_. But I used to be, yeah. When I was a kid," she called back. "They got my homeworld when I was really little. But they took me. They raised me, during the wars."

Visas and Bao-Dur looked troubled. Atton might've been once, too. But in one of their conversations shortly after Mandalore had joined the crew and Visas had recovered, Darden had told him a little bit about the Mandalorians 'at home', so to speak. He figured Mira might've been a slave, a prisoner of war, but she probably had had it a lot better than most kids out on the Rim during the Mandalorian Wars. The Mandalorians would've protected her, made her a part of their squad, taught her stuff. They would have seen it as their responsibility. More so because she was a girl. One of them might've even adopted her, if they'd really taken to her. Huh. No wonder she liked it here, and no wonder she was so friendly with Canderous. He'd wondered about that.

"Assassination protocols activated!" HK-47 cried, shooting at a malraas in a tree. A boma charged, and one of the Mandalorians got it right through the eye.

Xarga looked back over his shoulder and gave a single nod. Two Mandalorians broke off from the group, taking up position to hold the path. The rest of them continued.

So it was. They blasted and sliced their way through the beasts of the Dxun jungle. Eventually it did start raining again, and the spongey ground turned to muddy ground. Atton's boots squelched in it, and soon everyone was spattered with the stuff. Every kilometer and a half or so, Xarga would nod at one or two of his men, and they'd break off from the group, until Xarga told them they were only a short ways from their objective and only Mira and HK-47 were left.

"Statement: I still believe my function would better serve our ends attacking the Sith base and annihilating the meatbags within," HK-47 said sulkily as Xarga told them to hold position.

"Darden gave you your orders, HK-47," Mira said sharply. "She gave both of us our orders. You're staying right here with me, and keeping the path clear for the others. I'll bet we'll run into hordes of boma." She forced a smile at Atton and the others. "Good luck."

"You, too," Bao-Dur said, raising a brow at the droid and turning towards the tunnel in the hillside ahead. This had been drilled with tools or blown hollow with explosives, and it was proof they were close. Atton didn't need Xarga to point anymore. He stepped forward.

"Well. Here we are. Into the long, creepy tunnel." He shook water out of his hair. "At least it should be drier in there."

"I can follow you a little further," Xarga said. "But then I will set up command and control for my unit in the field. Lead on."

Atton nodded, motioning for the others to keep quiet. From here on out, there might be sentries, or traps. If the Sith base were alerted to their attack, their job would get a lot harder.

It was deadly quiet in the tunnel, except for some scratching and snorting. As their eyes adjusted, they saw that this was due to a group of three boma beasts just ahead. Xarga raised his blaster rifle, but Atton shook his head. Instead, he picked up his lightsaber. Bao-Dur nodded, and activated his single hilt blue while Visas activated her double-bladed saber. It had taken her awhile to fix it. Darden had done a number on it when Visas had attacked her. But she'd finally fixed it right around the time Atton had made his lightsaber. The crystal wasn't red anymore, though. She'd switched the synthetic Sith crystal for a real orange one she'd found with Bao-Dur. Anyway, she was good with it. A lot better than Atton, for all she couldn't see. But then, maybe that helped her. She _had_ to sense the beam with the Force. And she'd had more practice.

What with the two of them, Atton didn't get to do much with the boma, which was fine by him. When the beasts were down, the three of them, followed by Xarga, continued. Atton led with slow steps, looking left and right and everywhere for defenses. He was so cautious Visas got impatient. She quickened her pace right when Atton sensed the first vague energy signatures that meant the Sith had mined this stretch of ground. He darted out and grabbed her arm, jerking her back.

"Mines," he hissed.

He felt her anger at being held back switch immediately to fear, and then to gratitude. She shrank back. She wouldn't know how to handle them. She couldn't see the places where the Sith had turned up the dirt of the tunnel floor to bury the mines, and coming from Katarr, she'd be used to sensing organic matter, not synthetic energy signatures. Atton looked inquiringly at Bao-Dur. The Iridonian grimaced; he was better with computers and droids than explosives, better at building things than taking them apart. Atton rolled his eyes and stepped forward carefully, walking slowly, sensing for weaknesses in the energy field. He knelt down, and disabled the mine.

There were a lot of them. But after Atton had disarmed the first two or three, and the tunnel exit had come into view, Xarga said in a low, urgent voice that made Atton stop short, "Hold a moment." He tilted his head ever so slightly at the tunnel exit, at a sensor on a tripod next to it. "Past the mines…"

Bao-Dur saw it. "A type 2 perimeter motion relay," he murmured to Atton. "That particular model has several security vulnerabilities and design flaws. Stealth field generators can fool them…if either of you has one on you. If one of us could get close to it, I know the corporate override code for it." His lip curled ever so slightly. "Amateurs shouldn't even bother building security technology."

"Well they can't all be geniuses," Atton said, amused by Bao-Dur's misplaced contempt.

Xarga's helmet was towards Bao-Dur. When he spoke, he sounded impressed. "So. You aren't completely ignorant in the ways of battle. Good. But all of you must pass through the perimeter, and undetected would be better."

Atton looked at Visas. "You got a stealth field generator?"

"I do not," she answered.

Bao-Dur made a face. "Just get yours out, Atton," he said.

Atton did his best not to smirk. It wasn't professional. But it was like he was the only one prepared for this. He took out his stealth field generator and buckled it around his waist. "Wait here," he said quietly, activating the field.

"Atton," Bao-Dur said.

Atton deactivated the generator. "What?"

"The override code."

"Oh," Atton said, feeling much less smug. "Yeah, right. What is it?"

Bao-Dur told him, and Atton, a little embarrassed, made his way through the minefield towards the motion sensor. He shut it down with Bao-Dur's override code and deactivated his generator again. Bao-Dur and Visas came forward, but Xarga raised a gauntleted hand in farewell. He was already taking out communications equipment from his pack.

Atton looked at the others. "Guess it's just us now," he said. "We should move. If the Sith security's any good, they'll know we're here in five minutes."

They left the tunnel, reemerging out into the rain again. Atton growled. This damn _moon_. He was glad he hadn't ever fought landside here, that was for sure. His fighting'd been done in the sky back then.

Atton would've headed west immediately, towards the big black building, but Bao-Dur had stopped. Atton stopped and turned to look at him. He was looking at some sort of power generator off to the side of the path. As the Iridonian looked at it, he started grinning a very evil grin. "These Sith are even stupider than I thought," he said. "They're operating their defense turrets on a single power circuit. Means all the turrets focus on the same target, but it also means I can…" he pulled a lever. The generator's hum lowered in pitch, then stopped as it, and the turrets it operated, shut down. "Pathetic," Bao-Dur remarked.

"No kidding," Atton agreed. "Come on."

They headed west again. The jungle had been cleared away in this area. To the south a murky brown lake rippled with the falling rain. Straight ahead was obviously where they were headed. It didn't look much like a camp. It was a lot older than that, more finished, made of shining black stone. But, hey, they had three shuttles parked out front.

Atton made for the shuttles. He shielded and activated his lightsaber. "May the Force be with us, and all that," he said to the others as his heart started to pound. He wondered where Darden was right now.

The sentries posted around the shuttles caught sight of them about ten seconds before they were on top of them. And then Visas was emanating some sort of wave of fear—something he'd never seen her do before—and Bao-Dur was redirecting blaster fire right back at the people shooting at them. As for Atton, he had to watch it. His training almost took over. Not the training Darden had been giving him; the old training, from the Wars. A great, insidious anger was pulsing out from the nearby structure. An oily, seductive Darkness that slid into his marrow and threatened to take him over with the old bloodlust, the old pleasure he'd taken in killing, in getting the drop on the enemy. So he kept to Shii Cho, Soresu, and that new one Darden had been teaching them—Shien—avoiding Makashi entirely. He backed up the others, exerted himself in defending _them_, and kept his mind on helping Darden with the concentration he had used to use in keeping the Jedi out and off balance. This wasn't about killing Jedi, or Dark Jedi, or whatever. This was about helping Onderon, saving the little guys this civil war would step on. This was about protecting Darden, and making sure she succeeded.

The sentries were dead, and Visas' head turned to him. "Atton. I sense your disquiet in this place. Do not be afraid. You are strong enough for this mission. Darden chose you because she knows this, and because she wishes _you_ to know it. And if you are not, we are here. We shall help you."

Atton shook his head, panting a bit. He looked at the temp console the sentries had set up here. "Bao-Dur?" he said.

"On it," said the same, already hacking into it. He spent maybe thirty seconds looking through files. They flashed across the screen so quickly Atton couldn't catch any of it, but he knew the Zabrak comprehended every character. Freak. Bao-Dur raised a horny brow. "The Sith here are already demoralized. They don't like it here, and most of them don't know what's going on. It's a tomb, Atton. The building over there. Some Sith Lord."

"Ah. That would explain the aura of general menace," Atton said, forcing a light tone.

"Yeah." Bao-Dur's fingers paused over the keys. "There's a program here," he said. "Backup in case someone wanted to seize command. Corrupts the droids they've got around here to fire on all organics. Could give us a hand."

Atton nodded wearily. "Do it." He looked up at the shuttles. "We gotta put these out of commission," he said. "We could corrupt the navigation systems, I guess. Or set delayed explosives…"

Visas made a small noise, and activated her lightsaber. With a smooth, controlled movement, she sliced off the nose of the nearest shuttle. Sparks flew, and the internal mechanisms of the shuttle were exposed, their wiring broken and smoking. Atton blinked, then grinned. "Or we could do that," he said.

Bao-Dur shrugged. He tackled the wings of the second, and Atton carved up the engine of the third. From the black tomb in the distance, the sounds of blaster fire rang out from the droids Bao-Dur had corrupted. Blaster fire, and the dying cries of men and women.

Atton squared his shoulders, shielded once more, and led the way towards the black tomb. Bao-Dur called up, "There ought to be another power generator up here someplace, controlling the droids. I'll find it and shut it down. They'll be aiming for both us and the Sith."

"We'll back you up," Atton called back.

A Sith caught sight of them. He had a boma beast with him. Atton sensed a weird vibration, a connection between the mind of the man and the mind of the beast. The Sith was controlling the beast. Man and beast ran at them. Atton cut them off, protecting Bao-Dur as he went for the generator on the western side of the ramp up into the tomb.

The ramp buzzed with activity. Already four or five Sith lay dead on the ramp, downed by the droids Bao-Dur had sent rogue, but there were more of them. Much more. Atton sensed ten, maybe twelve, and two or three of them were Dark Jedi, wielding lightsabers that shone red through the rain.

The droids firing indiscriminately at friend and foe stopped suddenly, and Bao-Dur jumped into the fray with Visas and Atton. The three of them fought their way up the ramp. The anger, the Darkness was stronger here. Atton could feel it, and it set the hairs on the back of his neck to rising and left his skin tingling. He counted lightsaber strokes, recited hand and foot positions in his head even as he utilized them, resisting the pull of the Dark Side. As he fought on, he found himself moving more towards the front, thinking more and more clearly, until they had passed through the doors of the building, and past the front guard, and there was a break in the fighting.

Atton, Visas, and Bao-Dur looked at one another, all breathing heavier. Bao-Dur looked troubled, and Visas had a weird look on her face. "This place…" she said.

"I know what you mean," Bao-Dur said. "It's hard to keep calm here. Like there's a short in the wiring that's causing overheating."

Atton nodded thoughtfully, used to Bao-Dur's mechanical metaphors. Footsteps sounded behind them, and they all turned, lightsabers at the ready. But it was Xarga, panting.

"I…I had to run…to catch up with you," he said. "You've made impressive progress. The Sith camp lies in ruins. I've told Kelborn, and received word back from Mandalore. The rest of your squad is already en route to Iziz. Also, Kex checked our sources for any information about this place. Kex believes that this is the tomb of Freedon Nadd. We knew it was somewhere on this moon, but we had no idea it was this close to our camp."

"We found the logs in the camp," Bao-Dur said, nodding.

"Who was this Freedon Nadd, anyway?" Atton asked.

Xarga shrugged. "Some sort of fallen Jedi," he said, not too interested. "He conquered Onderon long ago and became their king. The royal line is directly descended from him. That part of Onderonian history the citizens try to leave buried and forgotten."

Atton looked around. "Do you know anything about the tomb? It's just, I have this weird need to know about the places I'm about to fight in."

Xarga shifted. "Freedon Nadd was a Dark Jedi," he said, unhelpfully. "The stories say he was far worse than Revan and Malak ever were. This place is tainted, and the Sith presence here makes the danger great."

"I can taste the power of the Dark Side here," Visas said, still with that strange expression on her face. "Freedon Nadd must have been truly great to leave such an impact. The echoes of his life are still here. I can feel there are secrets to be learned here."

Atton looked sharply at her, as Xarga told them he was returning to the communications setup to keep tabs on the rear guard. He waved vaguely at the departing Mandalorian, then gripped Visas' shoulder. "Visas—hey, focus, okay?"

She turned her face up to him, a little annoyed.

"About the secrets here," he said, uncomfortable, but feeling he had to say something. "Are they the sort of secrets we really want to know? I mean—dammit, I'm hardly one to talk- but remember what Darden's been drilling into our heads, okay? Don't think about the power Freedon Nadd had. Think about what he did with it."

She frowned, thoughtful. He felt her mind settle. "You are right, of course," she said. "I thank you. But what do you mean, you are not one to talk?"

Atton blinked, completely taken aback. "What?" he said dumbly. "You mean, she didn't tell you?"

"I don't understand what it is you speak of," Visas said, confused.

Atton looked at Bao-Dur. "Bao-Dur?"

He raised his hands. "Whatever you've told Darden about you is between you and her. The General isn't the type to gossip." He adjusted his pack, drank some water, and reactivated his lightsaber. "I'll follow you because she told me I could, and whatever you were, I trust you. The General does."

Atton stared at the two of them. Telling Darden about his past had been such a big deal. When she'd accepted him, forgiven him, agreed to train him, it had been so much more than he'd ever looked for. He had never expected that she'd allow him to keep his new name and his new life. He'd been sure that when he'd told her, she would tell the others. But she hadn't. He smiled, laughed a little. "Huh. What do you know? Come on, let's do this."

He led the way into the tomb of Freedon Nadd.

Sith were everywhere. Armored soldiers, hard-eyed officers, and hooded Dark Jedi milled around the tomb like they lived there. From a couple of cots and footlockers, Atton assumed some of them did. Last time he'd checked, tombs were for dead people, but then again, maybe tombs were the fashion for Sith this year. The whole place certainly felt evil enough. It was hard to sense things. Freedon Nadd had carried the anger and cruelty he'd lived with into his death. The very emotions Atton had used to use to put Jedi off balance when he hunted them now put his friends off balance, especially Visas. She usually walked with grace and a subtle power. Sometimes she stumbled over the corpses they left behind them, here, blinded by the hate in the place to her surroundings. Atton caught her uncertainty, her handicap here. He'd talked with her a good bit about how she saw, and how her powers now were weaker than they had been. About six Sith in, he turned to her, hesitating. Then he opened his mind.

"Visas. Look. I'm here. Can you sense me?"

"I…I can," she said, turning her head towards him. "You…it is like a light in the darkness of this place. I could follow you without trouble, I think. But will not you be more vulnerable, Atton? You should not weaken yourself…for me."

Atton shook his head. "Nah," he said, with more confidence than he felt. "When the Force is Dark, my eyes still work. I can use them."

It came out harsher than he intended. He made a face, but she smiled a little.

Bao-Dur's mind was harder to access. A lot of times, sensing him wasn't much different than sensing a droid. Darden was the only one of them that could usually get a good read on him. But he tried to open his mind now, for Visas. "Come on," he said.

She turned her head towards him. "With the two of you, I can go on," she said. "I am grateful."

They entered into a room. Atton didn't know what they were supposed to be doing, really, except that they hadn't done it, yet. The plan was to wreck the resources here, put as many Sith as possible out of action, keep them from aiding Vaklu on Onderon, through the Force or otherwise. So they kept killing Sith when the Sith attacked, and destroying supplies, and so on.

But here something was different. Over in a shadowy corner of this room, the air seemed to tremble. Visas' head turned towards the corner. "There," she said, and her voice shook as her finger pointed. "Something terrible happened there, or there the Force remembers the Dark Side very well. The anger…can you not taste it?"

Bao-Dur looked where she indicated, took a step forward. Then he shuddered. His fists clenched and unclenched. Atton didn't get Bao-Dur's mind, but he could read body language well enough, and he knew Darden was focusing on getting Bao-Dur to handle his anger. He was obviously struggling here. Atton's own mouth was dry, and his heart pounded. He looked at the spot Visas had indicated, though, and a crazy idea came into his head.

"Give me a minute," he said, walking forward.

"Atton," Bao-Dur rasped. "Don't. It's—let's just _go._"

Atton shook his head, already focusing on the Force, on the anger, the impotent fury here, like he'd felt against the Jedi that had abandoned them during the Mandalorian Wars, against the Jedi that had changed everything, against Kreia's manipulation now. Every time he felt this way, he was always wrong, or the feeling was irrelevant, or stemmed from something deeper. He reached out with the Force, pressing this knowledge on the surroundings. The environment reacted. The anger gave a powerful surge, burning Atton's mind, but he pressed back, using his mind for once to project true thoughts and feelings outward, rather than to protect itself from invaders with false ones. He thought of justice, of the peace at the end of the storm. He thought of Darden, and the goodness she carried to the people that needed it. He thought of determination, and serenity. He thought of Life, not Death.

The emotions swirling around Atton slowed, and became questioning. Malevolence still simmered in the air, but he felt he had wearied it.

So did Visas. "Atton—what?" she began from behind him. Then he felt her understanding, a sudden surge of hope and faith. She came forward to stand beside him and took his hand, joining her will to his. Atton could feel her sorrow, her grief over her planet and the galaxy's indifference. It was an intrinsic part of her being now, but she pressed at the Darkness with thoughts of the good she had met since that day two years ago. Her thoughts were strange to Atton. She liked the trees here on Dxun. The towering trunks with their mossy bark and hanging vines held a wild beauty for her. She liked the catch in the _Ebon Hawk_'s hyperdrive, the one that Atton was always yelling at that astromech to fix.

She recited the Jedi Code in her mind.

_There is no emotion: there is peace. _

_ There is no ignorance; there is knowledge_

_ There is no passion; there is serenity_

_ There is no chaos; there is harmony_

_ There is no death; there is the Force_

Atton wasn't sure how much he believed in the Jedi Code, nor was Visas. But the words had an effect on the anger and Darkness that surrounded them. Visas pressed her advantage, thinking of great deeds of Jedi past, and then, more strongly, and more intelligibly, of the deeds she had witnessed Darden Leona do. Visas projected out the inspiration and quiet she felt around Darden, and Atton followed up with his own feelings for their leader, different, but every bit as strong. But Visas didn't stop. She persevered, thinking of the friendship she felt for Bao-Dur, and weirdly enough, for the rest of them, too. Atton, Canderous, the Handmaiden, even Mira, so newly arrived. Visas saw beauties and strengths in all of them that gave her hope. Atton smiled, half wondering at this woman he would have killed upon her arrival, and incredibly grateful Darden hadn't let him.

Together, Atton and Visas faced the Darkness in the corner, and beaten, it retreated, grew calm. Atton opened his eyes, exhausted, but elated, too. He pressed Visas' hand, trying to communicate how he felt.

She turned her face to him, and smiled. "You…that was wonderful. I thank you. I had not believed that the Dark Side could be defeated like that."

Atton was a little amazed himself. "I guess the Light Side has a power of its own," he said. "I couldn't have done it without you."

He let go of her hand and turned to Bao-Dur. The Iridonian was staring at them. He'd stopped shaking, and his muscles had relaxed. He stumbled forward and clasped Atton's hand, then released it. "Atton…I…"

Atton shook his head and clapped him on the shoulder. "You held on, okay? You did good. The General'd be proud. Let's go."

He walked over to the console, pressed the button to access areas higher up in the tomb, and brought his lightsaber down on the console to finish. They exited, and caught sight of three more Sith and a boma, heading their way.

As they fought on, Atton was conscious of a lightening in the atmosphere, a growing strength. Visas stopped standing so close to him and Bao-Dur and began to move with more confidence. But the Sith fought more fiercely all the time. Atton caught a bolt in the left arm. Bao-Dur got a nasty bite off a boma. They were forced to stop, so that Visas, the only one of them with any skill in healing with the Force yet, could see to their wounds a little. But even after she had, Atton still had to bandage them. And they were tired.

He'd lost track of time in here, lost track of faces in lightsaber movements. How long had they been here? An hour? Two? How many had they cut down? Twenty? More? Finally they reached another temp console, with a locking mechanism for the inner door into the actual room where they'd put Freedon Nadd. Bao-Dur unlocked the door, and rolled his shoulders back. He made for the exit to the corridor. "There won't be any more after this," he said. "There can't be. Come on."

But Atton had caught sight of another dark corner. A pulsing presence was there, like the last embers of a dying fire. It was the same insidious Darkness that hung over the entire tomb, that had been especially strong in an earlier room, maybe half an hour ago. But the Dark Side had a different flavor here. Not one of anger, but one of fear.

Atton stood facing the Darkness, and all his deepest fears seemed to rise to the front of his mind. Fear of his own darker passions, that they would overcome him once again. Fear that it didn't matter whether they did or not, because he had them, and had acted on them, and so whatever he did, it would end in condemnation, destruction, and despair. Whatever he did, he would always be a killer, always a destroyer. And whatever aspirations he had to be something else were futile in the end, doomed to failure. And now…now that he had found something that for the first time he felt he might die to protect…he would end up destroying that, too.

His breathing sounded loud and shallow in his ears. He was cold, but his hands and forehead were sweaty.

"Atton," Bao-Dur said. His voice sounded far away, but Atton opened his mind, somehow feeling he should. Bao-Dur stepped forward on the one side, and Visas stepped forward on the other. Both of them put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't let it get you," Bao-Dur said.

"You are stronger than this," Visas said. "Whatever you have done, wherever you have been, you have overcome it, or you would not stand here today."

"The General trusts you, and so do we," Bao-Dur said.

He could hear them now more clearly, and he squared his shoulders and faced the Darkness again. He could not fight the Dark Side here like he had before. Anger could be calmed by more positive emotions. Fear had to be faced, and denied. Atton could not stand here and believe there was nothing in all the galaxy, nothing in himself, to fear. But he could stand here, with Visas and Bao-Dur beside him, and refuse to be afraid.

_There is no chaos; there is harmony_

_ There is no death; there is the Force_

Those lines at least, in all the Jedi Code, rang true to Atton, and he hadn't encountered anything yet that had convinced him they could be made untrue. He repeated them in his head over and over again, almost wrestling the fear and terror in this corner of a Sith Lord's tomb into calmness.

At last, it was done. Atton was cold all over, but Visas and Bao-Dur each squeezed a shoulder, and released. "Let's finish this," Atton said.

The Sith were waiting for them. Something was going on in the room where Freedon Nadd was buried. Some energy was building, and whatever it was, the people in charge here didn't want it interrupted. The Sith fought fiercely, but there were too few of them left, now. Bao-Dur cut down a man with captain's decorations, and Atton ran forward into the crypt.

"Break the ritual, now!" a tall, horribly thin man in a long black robe cried. A bolt of energy left another robed man's body, racing through the ceiling to the sky beyond. The man fell to the ground, dead. The last three Sith in the tomb of Freedon Nadd turned to face them.

"You are too late," he said, addressing Atton, who stood in front of the others. His face was twisted in a sort of triumphant despair. "We have done what needed to be done. Soon Onderon will fall, and with it, the Republic shall die. What you have done here is of little consequence. Still, I have to wonder, how…? Ah. Of course. The Force has guided you here. I can hear its echoes within you, yet I sense it is…" His lip curled. "Untrained. It is good you have sought us out, whatever your reasons. This tomb is strong with the Dark Side. Here is where you will take your first steps on the path to your destiny."

Atton instinctively sensed that what the Sith said of Onderon wasn't true. The Dark Side might be with Vaklu's men in Iziz, but it wasn't all of the Force, and the Force was with Darden, too. He took up a defensive stance. His lightsaber hummed, but he didn't strike. "What do you know about my destiny?" he demanded. "Look, I don't want what you're selling."

The Sith's face contorted, but he still did not activate his lightsaber. He mastered himself, and addressed Atton again. "What lies has your Master spread? What has she denied you in her ignorance? She, yes? The Jedi Exile? Does she preach calm and serenity? Hah! She wallows in hypocrisy. Even the Jedi saw her weakness, and cast her out. Would you follow her? Become her puppet? She would have you deny the strength of your emotions, the strength of your own will. She knows nothing of strength herself." The Sith stepped closer. "Can't you feel the power of this place? I sense you can. It echoes through you—through all of you—like a second voice." He was circling them now, talking to all of them. "Accept it," he urged. "Embrace it."

The two Sith still standing at attention ahead of them were smiling demented smiles, watching their Master. Atton felt the force of this man's will work upon him, the force of this place. The words he spoke were the echo of thoughts that Atton had had himself, years ago, the growling of a creature that had lived inside him, too, for years, and he had only finally put to death last month. He blinked, realizing that it _had_ died. He looked down at the Sith that had been sacrificed for the sake of a ritual that wouldn't work, and he felt only sadness.

He looked at the Sith Master with growing clarity. "No," he said quietly. "That would be weakness. To stand here, look at what you are, and say no: that's strength. Look, you can do it, too. Why are you doing this? What've you got against Onderon? Against the Republic? Whose orders are you following, anyway? Why? You can stop."

Visas' mind had been growing faint. Now it sharpened, and beside him, Bao-Dur stood up straighter. The Sith's lip curled. "So. You seek to save me. From what? With the Dark Side, there is no knowledge forbidden, no restraints. What can you possibly offer me? Can't you feel the power here, within the walls of this tomb? Just embrace it. Don't limit your potential."

Atton stared at him, really realizing why Darden had chosen him to come here today. A weight seemed to lift off his shoulders, and a quiet peace he'd never felt before filled him. "I'm not," he answered firmly. "I thought I would be. I thought becoming a Jedi would make me weaker. But it hasn't, and I can feel the power here…" he spoke slowly, "And I can think about giving in and letting you, or somebody else, do my thinking for me. I can give to my fear; give in to the Dark Side. But I won't do it: that's the strength that I've learned." He smiled.

Then the Sith Master activated his lightsaber. It slid out, double-bladed and red. "A shame," he said, sneering. "Instead of freedom and power, you have chosen death. So be it."

His friends activated their lightsabers, and battle was engaged.

Visas and Bao-Dur took on the underlings. Atton engaged the Sith Master himself. He adopted Makashi. As much as he disliked the form, it was the one that would serve him best here. But the Sith Master knew it, and countered his every move, still sneering.

"You haven't had that lightsaber long, have you, boy?" he taunted, coming back with an overhead sweep from a block that would've beheaded Atton if he hadn't ducked.

But Atton had been expecting the move. He'd been reading the Sith Master's body language, his movements, as they'd taught him back during the Wars, as he'd been practicing again ever since the Handmaiden had joined the crew. He closed his mind, then, and started listing off hyperspace routes, _broadcasting _them as loud as possible. This guy wouldn't be fazed by strong emotion. But at the sudden inrush of useless information, the lack of access to _Atton's_ emotions, the Sith faltered. He frowned, suddenly unsure where Atton was going to move. Atton kicked up in the Echani style, beneath the Sith's guard, winding him and knocking him back. He recovered his balance, but not in time to block Atton's back slice aimed at his right side. The lightsaber burned through robe, side, and internal organs. The Sith fell down dead, looking surprised.

"No," Atton said quietly. "I haven't had the lightsaber long. But I've dealt with Jedi, Light and Dark, for years."

He turned to see Visas and Bao-Dur looking at him, having finished off their own opponents.

"That's it, then?" Bao-Dur said matter-of-factly. "Previous experience with Jedi? During the Civil War?"

"Yeah," Atton said. "I fought for Revan. I captured and killed Jedi. Then I stopped. Then I ran."

He shrugged. Bao-Dur looked at him, then nodded. "Makes sense," he said. "You were a pilot before then?"

"Yeah, in the Mandalorian Wars."

Bao-Dur nodded again. "We were lucky to get you," he said then, completely unexpectedly. "She needs someone like you. Guess it's not luck, though, is it?"

"Guess not," Atton agreed.

Visas came forward, touched his arm. "You really do know, don't you? The Dark Side…"

He nodded wearily. "I know. But not anymore."

She smiled at him. "We are finished here. Let us return to the camp."

He smiled, too. They walked towards the exit, only to find Xarga standing there, looking around at the corpses everywhere. He bowed then, deeply. "What you have done is beyond words," he said quietly. "You've fought like Mandalorians. If you're finished here, I will take you back to the camp. You can let the rest of your squad know what you've discovered."

"Darden's back?" Atton demanded.

Xarga shook his head. "No," he said, and from the tone of his voice Atton knew he was smiling. "But she's won."

* * *

**A/N: So I'm really, really happy with what I did here. I like writing Handmaiden, and it was so much fun to establish the friendships among the New Jedi Order, especially apart from Darden. I hope you enjoy reading this chapter half as much as I enjoyed writing it!**

**May the Force be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	24. Familiarity

**Disclaimer: A rudimentary knowledge of English prefixes and their signification, as well as a cursory acquaintance with the denotation of the word 'claim', will inform the intelligent, discerning reader as to the purpose of the bolded statement I habitually place behind the colon at the commencement of my chapters.**

* * *

XXIII.

Familiarity

SEVEN HOURS PREVIOUSLY

DARDEN

It had maybe been half an hour since Atton, Bao-Dur, and the rear guard had departed into the jungle when Zuka came up. Darden greeted him with genuine pleasure. He had been friendly before she'd become a hero around here.

"Zuka reports already that he and your friends make good progress through the jungle," he said. "Come with me."

He led them to a restored hangar. Not the one where Canderous had his shuttle, but a different one. When Darden saw what was in there, she frowned. Canderous hadn't made any pretensions to doing anything other than restoring the Mandalorians, but still, seeing a Basilisk war droid here was a shock. The hulking armored thing had rusty guns, but even as old, as corroded as it was, it brought back memories of Mandalorians raining down from the sky shooting fire at civilians.

But Zuka was almost bouncing. "Here it is: a salvaged Basilisk War Droid," he said proudly. "Mandalore has said that he will make it available to you for insertion into the city of Iziz. I assure you, they won't know what hit them."

That was different, then. Flying a Basilisk was an entirely different prospect from fighting one. Darden started to grin. "Wait. You guys are letting me fly a Basilisk? Really?"

Kreia frowned at her, and even the Handmaiden raised an eyebrow. Darden blushed a little. Maybe she was a bit too excited. Still—didn't they know what these things could do?

Zuka laughed and clapped her on the shoulder. She staggered under the weight of the gauntleted hand. "Yes, just like a new Mandalorian recruit proving themselves. Into the heart of a war, as well. Mandalore has given you a great honor." It was to his credit that he sounded only slightly envious. "Unfortunately, its weapons systems aren't fully functional yet, nor are some other unimportant support systems. But she will get you to Iziz in one piece. Their fighters won't be able to stop that."

No. They hadn't before, and they wouldn't now, but… "Er…could you tell me more about those unimportant support systems?" Darden asked, now eyeing the corroding struts with sudden misgiving.

Zuka waved a hand. "Minor systems," he said, trying to sound nonchalant. "Nothing you need concern yourself with. We've modified the interior to fit three people. It may be a little tight. You'll need to leave immediately. Iziz is in the grip of a civil war, so there'll be considerable resistance. They remember the last time Basilisk War Droids visited their planet."

He climbed the ladder beside the droid and opened the hatch. Darden hesitated, but Mandalore was right. His shuttle wouldn't get through with all the activity on Onderon right now. The Basilisk could. It was their only chance. So she set her teeth, climbed the ladder, and dropped into the droid. Kreia and the Handmaiden followed. It _was_ a little tight. The three of them sat shoulder to shoulder, and the packs were already pressing bruises into Darden's back, at least.

Zuka looked down into the hatch. "Fight ferociously," he said. "And if you die, take as many as you can with you."

Darden couldn't raise her arm far enough from the controls to salute, so she just smiled bravely. Zuka closed the hatch on them, and Darden hit the button to seal the air in. The display screen showed the hangar door opening. Darden powered up the systems of the Basilisk War Droid, and felt it come rattling to life all around her. Beside her, the Handmaiden trembled.

"Perhaps you shouldn't have sent Atton to the jungle," she said nervously. "Are you…can you fly one of these things?"

"I don't know," Darden said, laughing just as nervously. "Let's find out, shall we?"

She keyed in the standard Republic ignition sequence for a fighter, then thanked the Force that the Mandalorians were efficient, but not complicated, when the Basilisk responded. The droid shuddered, then the jets kicked on, and they rocketed out of the hangar and out of the camp, into the Dxun atmosphere.

* * *

IZIZ ROYAL PALACE

KAVAR

Queen Talia looked out of the window at Vaklu's men and the Sith bombarding the royal palace. She smiled tightly, dangerously. "Your plan seems to have succeeded," she remarked. "Your enemy has indeed revealed itself."

Kavar did not stir from his knees and concentrated fiercely on the Force. It had gone Dark around Iziz. It was difficult to see events through the haze of hatred and violence that filled the city. "I anticipated the Sith," he said. "Those beasts…those beasts weren't in my battle plan."

"Even now Vaklu is using them to breach the palace," the Queen said. "I will not surrender to that usurper," she declared. "I would die first."

The captain of Talia's personal guard, Kadron, bowed, his hand over his heart. "Every man here would give his life to keep that from happening," he promised.

A disturbance in the Force caught Kavar's attention, then. Fear had been building in the city for the last ten minutes. He'd wondered what it was, and just then a pageboy ran in with a message. He came straight to Kavar. Kavar opened the missive, raised his eyebrows. Laughed.

A Basilisk! Trust his student to catch them off guard that way. He should have paid more attention to her alliance with the Mandalorians when he'd first noticed it two months ago. Perhaps he might have taken advantage of it then, if Tobin hadn't…

It was of no matter now, however. Talia was looking at him, black eyebrows drawn together, wondering what he could possibly have to laugh about. "There is hope," he told her. "Growing stronger all the time…" More fear in the city, more pain and confusion. From Vaklu's men. "My message was received."

"Which message? What are you talking about?" Talia demanded.

Kavar smiled wider and stood. "An old student is returning. I don't think the Sith are going to know what hit them."

* * *

DARDEN

ON THE SKY RAMP

Her bones still ached from crashing the Basilisk. Apparently the unimportant support systems that hadn't been operational had been the landing stabilizers. But excitement coursed through her veins, nonetheless, healing her hurts and filling her with energy.

Blaster fire rang through the air. Buildings were tumbling. Iziz was crumbling. General Vaklu's men had overrun the sky ramp, and if she, Kreia, the Handmaiden, Captain Bostuco, and the handful of royalist soldiers she'd rescued didn't stop things right now, the monarchy would come tumbling down, and this planet would secede from the Republic. The fighting was fierce. Darden couldn't stop, couldn't hold her hand. She hated the violence here. It reminded her of the war, ten years before. But then, she had always been _good _at war. For ten years she had been in exile. Now she was back and fighting again, and she felt like she'd found her place once more.

Bostuco released a dozen men that had been hiding in the barracks, and together they all charged the turret tower. Darden and the Handmaiden led the line, with Kreia standing back dealing Force attacks and watching the outliers. One, two, all three men holding the tower were downed. Darden turned to a likely looking young man of maybe twenty-five.

"Vaklu's ships are flying overhead, shooting royalists and keeping your supporters offworld," she said. "Man the turret. _Take care_ of them."

Not one of these people knew who she was. Bostuco had only recognized her as the offworlder that had started the riots a couple months ago. He'd remembered she was a royalist supporter, and seen that she and her companions were well armed and ready to help, and that was all he'd needed. But nevertheless the young man snapped to attention now.

Bostuco looked at her sideways. Darden ignored him and left the tower, leading the men. A force field, recently erected, stood in the way of further progress up the Sky Ramp to the Royal Palace. Darden nodded. Without a lightsaber, the force field might have caused some trouble. With it, none at all. She ran up, plunged her lightsaber into the blue field. The shock was halted by the nonconductor grip of her weapon. She felt a jolt, and then the force field stopped humming, disabled.

The soldiers beyond it staggered back, eyes wide. "She…she's still alive! Run! RUN!"

"Anyone who surrenders and leaves the fight is not my enemy today!" Darden shouted after them and up ahead.

But the air crackled just ahead, and Darden's mouth tightened. She ran on.

The bodies of Vaklu's two fleeing soldiers lay smoking on the ground. Three Sith with lightsabers, a boma beast, and half a dozen ordinary soldiers stood ready to receive them. Darden had nearly twenty men behind her now, not including her own companions.

She lowered her lightsaber into an attack position. The fight was very, very short.

Darden led the troops on, up to the very pinnacle of the Sky Ramp, and into the Royal Palace.

Captain Bostuco nodded at his troops, and the men fanned left and right to retake the palace. Blaster fire resounded through the tiled halls. Darden heard walls cracking and men crying out.

"General Vaklu's troops haven't been here too long," Bostuco said. "Hopefully we still have time to save the Queen. Straight ahead is the throne room."

Darden nodded, and moved ahead. In an entrance chamber, she could see maybe a dozen hooded men, Vaklu's men, led by the hard-jawed, cold-eyed Colonel Tobin. The door beyond them was shut, and an enormous, winged creature, green, with claws nearly a foot long and vicious, yellow teeth, was beating at it with brawny arms, falling back with shrieks of pain from the electrified surface.

Colonel Tobin whirled as she approached. Something like fear flickered in his eyes, but he shouted, "Shut the outer door now!"

A door between Darden, her companions, and Bostuco, shut. It was massive, reaching from floor to ceiling, and Darden could see it was several centimeters thick. A console next to it, on her side, flickered, and a holo projection of Tobin appeared above it, smiling smugly. "I'm impressed you made it this far," he said. "But you are too late. Soon the Queen will be dead, and General Vaklu will be the new King. This is no ordinary door between us. The same material is used for the hull of capital class vessels. I'm afraid you will find it quite impregnable."

Darden stepped into the blue circle on the floor and pressed the button on the console to transmit her own image back into the other room. "Like the Sky Ramp line? Do yourself a favor and let me in now, Tobin. You won't like it when I get in anyway."

Tobin sneered, but his eyes were guarded, afraid. "I don't think so, Jedi. Now, if you will excuse me, we have one last barrier to take care of." He stepped out of frame.

"Who are you?" Bostuco demanded. "He said Jedi…and with the lightsaber…?"

"Darden Leona," said the same. "It doesn't matter. There's got to a way to breach that door. I don't know this place. What is it?"

"D-Darden Leo—"

"Yes," Darden snapped impatiently. "Now the way in?"

"There are two security terminals," Bostuco said, regaining his composure with difficulty. "One in the east wing and one in the west. The one in the west controls the door—"

Just then the console in front of Darden overloaded with a burst of white hot heat. Darden threw herself back and raised a Force shield just in time. There was silence for a moment. "You got a slicer in the security system," Darden said. "Come on."

The slicer turned out to be none other than Darden's old cantina buddy Kiph. Apparently, taking her credits to slice open a visa and help get a Republic agent off-world was more a measure of his mercenary nature than any decency of character. But mercenary did not mean brave. The minute Darden and the Handmaiden sliced through Vaklu's soldiers to take the security console, the cowardly Twi'lek gave himself up, leaving Darden with complete access to the security system. Well, complete access to the security system as it stood under the programs he'd imposed upon it. Kiph would not explain them, and Darden didn't have time to interrogate him. So, consulting Bostuco, and Captain Riiken, whom Vaklu's men had had imprisoned in the security complex, Darden simply downloaded the override codes for the primary system to take to the secondary one, which Riiken and Kiph both said the royalists still held. Darden left Kiph in the charge of Captain Riiken, and swearing under her breath at the roundaboutation, ran as hard as she could towards the eastern, secondary security complex, while Bostuco organized a troop at the door to the entrance hall and throne room, ready to go gunning in the moment she got it open.

She was red in the face and sweating by the time she made it, and the three soldiers in Vaklu's colors that got in her way were cut down without any ceremony. She punched open the door, and almost fell into the arms of Master Kavar. He caught her, laughing a little. "You always did know how to make an entrance."

"What the hell are you doing here?" Darden demanded, incredibly relieved to see him. "Where's the Queen? They've got a drexl ramming down the door to the throne room—they locked me out…"

"I'm not her bodyguard," Kavar said calmly. "We got separated by the currents of the battle. But you are correct. Time is of the essence. Captain Kadron, just through here, has a plan to get through the door. But he needs you and your friend. Your arrival here is…very well timed."

"Friend? But…" Darden looked at her old Master. He nodded at the Handmaiden. Darden looked at Kreia, but the older man's eyes just slid past her teacher. She looked harder at Kreia, remembering the old woman's words about Atris' failure to recognize her, about her 'technique' of hiding herself from the Jedi Master then. Kreia's blank eyes stared impassively at Darden. Her jaw was tight, her posture straight. Darden looked back at Kavar. "Take me to Kadron."

Kavar released her forearms, and led the way into the secondary security complex. A well-built man in his mid-forties looked up at them, blinked. "So you're the Jedi, eh?" he said. "The comm chatter we've intercepted is filled with reports about you. You fought right through their flank on the Sky Ramp? We desperately need someone like you."

Darden nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

Captain Kadron gestured at Master Kavar. "We've managed to hold this part of the palace, but Vaklu's forces control the rest. We need to get to the Queen before that flaming drexl breaks through the inner door."

"Yeah, we do," Darden agreed. "But don't worry about the rest of the palace. I brought reinforcements. All of Vaklu's forces, save the ones behind the outer door with that drexl, have either surrendered to Captain Bostuco or been defeated."

Kadron's face brightened. He took an almost involuntary step towards her. "Have you been to the primary security console?" he demanded. "There's a slicer there hampering our every…"

"Kiph," Darden interrupted. "Not anymore. When I got there he saw fit to surrender, too. I released Captain Riiken and Captain Riiken has Kiph in custody. Here are the override codes to the primary security system."

She handed over the datapad. Captain Kadron took it, and almost dropped it in his haste to get it to his aide. "Son of a murglak!" he ejaculated. "Corporal! Use this code to open the outer door to the throne room!"

Darden activated her lightsaber and raised an eyebrow at her old Master.

He activated his double blue sabers. "Let's go," he said, like he'd used to before they went into a firefight on some squabbling planet, back when she was his teenaged Padawan Learner, back before Revan had called her to Cathar, and she had answered the call against his will.

Captain Kadron drew his blaster and the Corporal pushed a button. And with the Handmaiden and the invisible Kreia, they ran.

Bostuco and his troop were already fighting with the last of Vaklu's troops in the entryway, though the last Sith was still keeping everyone away from the drexl and the inner door with the Force.

Tobin shot one of the royalists and caught sight of Darden. "Will you just die already?!" he shouted, firing his blaster rifle at her. Darden deflected the bolt. "You will go no further than this."

"Will you just shut up already?" Darden called back in a clear voice, mocking him. "You're going to lose. You _have_ lost."

"You're too late," Tobin sneered. "Our pet beast is about to breach the force field to the throne room. The Queen will be dead in moments."

The drexl gave a mighty roar, smote the door one last time, and apparently did just that. Force field and door both came crashing down. The door, without the support of the field, crumpled like tin. Just then, a bolt of energy shot down from the sky. A surge of Dark Side energy flooded the room. The drexl roared again, and turned, lashing its mighty tail.

The Sith stepped back. "Watch out!" he cried in alarm. "I've lost control of the beast! Damn the Master! The ritual was supposed to…"

The drexl swung a claw and ripped the Sith open like paper. Blood spurted.

All the people in the entrance hall paused in the fight, and looked apprehensively at the drexl, which was surveying them all with tiny, mad, yellow eyes.

"Ignore the beast!" Tobin screamed. "Into the throne room! The Queen must die!"

He made for the door, and so did his remaining half-dozen men or so. They got past. Tobin didn't. The drexl swung at him next. Metal shrieked as his armor tore. More blood spurted, and Tobin went flying twenty feet into a wall. He hit with a nasty thud, slid down to the floor, and lay still.

Bostuco had seized the opportunity to lead his own men past the drexl after Vaklu's.

Darden, Kavar, Kreia, and the Handmaiden were left facing the drexl. The Handmaiden laughed. "Like the zakkeg, is it not?"

"Yeah. Except bigger," Darden said. "And meaner."

Instinctively, Darden knew her Master would take the frontal attack, and the Handmaiden would attack the right flank. So she went left. The three of them together cut down the beast, and rushed past its body into the throne room.

A man Darden hadn't seen before was fighting a woman in richly ornamented robes on the dais, while royalist and rebel soldiers fought all around the tiled, pillared room. They were completely oblivious to the rest of the conflict, but thrust and parried at one another with vibroblades and exceptional skill. As they fought, they argued in voices ragged from exertion and weariness.

"Your time is at an end, Talia!" the man, a tall, powerfully built man with silvering black hair and beard growled. "Your people have abandoned you, and now your life is forfeit."

The woman, Queen Talia, Darden realized, sliced viciously at her opponent. He jumped back out of the way. "You would destroy everything just for your ambition, Vaklu," she cried. "The Republic, Iziz…everything!"

"That…is a gross simplification, Talia," Vaklu gasped. His technique was superb, but he had to be near sixty, and Queen Talia was maybe twenty-five, every bit as technically good, and quite a bit faster. She had the reach of him, too. He wielded a single blade, while hers was a double. "Change…is a painful process. A price must be…paid. But Onderon…will have a new destiny…one larger than…you…could imagine." In fury, he sliced at her, but his stroke went wide, and in the moment his guard was open, Talia gashed him deeply in the thigh.

He cried out in pain, but nevertheless maintained his guard. "You're getting careless, Vaklu!" the Queen reprimanded her cousin. "One more mistake, and you're the one who will pay the price."

Vaklu staggered back just as the last of his men was felled by the royalists. All but his personal guards, standing around the dais while he presumably had tried to honorably kill his enemy himself, were either dead or being tied up by soldiers loyal to Talia, but he had eyes only for the Queen. "Damn you!" he choked out, his voice tight with pain and hatred. "Your skill with a blade won't save you from my men. Goodbye, Talia!" He brought his hand up, red with his own blood, to gesture to his guard. They brought their blaster rifles up. "Fire!"

Darden moved her hand before the guard moved theirs. The four remaining men were frozen into Stasis. Darden walked forward wearily. She nodded at Bostuco, and he and his men went up to the dais and disarmed Vaklu's guards. They started to bind them, and Darden let her Stasis fall, keeping her eyes on Vaklu. He was watching her now, too. So was the Queen. So was the entire room.

"So," Darden said, with false cheerfulness. "You're Vaklu, are you? You've got quite a reputation. But now I meet you, I can't say I'm too impressed." Her voice hardened. "Look around you," she said, gesturing at the room, at the palace which had gone quiet. "Your allies are dead. Your men are mostly dead…or surrendered. The Queen's people are _here_. And so am I."

"You," Vaklu spat. "You live? But…how?"

Darden was less than ten paces away from him now. "You've got one chance here, Vaklu," she said, very quietly. "Surrender. It's over."

She had to give the man some credit. He knew when he was beaten. He looked around, and face contorting in hatred, thigh still streaming from where Talia had wounded him, knelt before the Queen. "You've won this battle, Talia," he said through gritted teeth. "But your reign won't be an easy one. The Republic is a sinking ship. And you're too attached to it."

Kreia spoke up suddenly. "He is too dangerous to leave alive," she said, very quietly, from beside Darden, and to Darden. "As distasteful as it is, it might be best to silence him forever. Until he's dead, all of Onderon is in peril."

"Maybe, maybe not," Darden said, just as quietly. "But it is not our decision to make, Kreia." She bowed to Queen Talia, and the Handmaiden did so, too. "Your Majesty?" Kavar watched Darden, his eyes unreadable.

Vaklu looked only at the Queen. "So what will it be, Your Majesty?" he asked, but his voice was mocking. "Send me to your best detention cell. I will be free within a week, and vengeance will be mine!"

The Queen looked down at him with dark eyes made darker by black eyeliner, her vibrosword still stained with his blood. "Are you so sure of my decision, Vaklu?" she said in her slightly accented, firm voice. "As monarch, I decree you are guilty of treason. The punishment is death, to be carried out immediately. Captain Kadron?" She raised her hand, and golden bracelets clinked on her wrist. Captain Kadron stepped forward, and drew his own vibrosword.

"Talia, you can't…" Vaklu stammered, eyes suddenly widening in fear. "You're too weak…what about my trial?"

Kadron leveled the vibrosword at Vaklu's neck, swung it back. Kavar said nothing, but he looked at Darden, and his eyes were sad. Darden swore under her breath and raised her hand. Talia raised hers as well. Kadron halted.

"Your Majesty," Darden said, knowing by the flash of Talia's eyes that she tread on dangerous ground. "Not here. Not now. If you decree he must die, the people must see, and understand why. Otherwise what kind of moral authority will you have?"

"But he will rise again," Talia argued. "He has too many supporters. I do appreciate your counsel, but he must be killed."

Darden looked at Vaklu, and said steadily, "If that is your judgment, then so be it," she looked back up at Talia. "But again I urge you not to make it here and now. Here your people cannot see what has happened. They have been fed for months on a diet of only the information he chose to give them, on his lies and propaganda. For many of them, he is a hero. And if you kill him now out of their sight, without trial, hearing, or explanation, you make him a martyr."

She paused. The fire had left Queen Talia's eyes, and she looked grave, considering Darden's words. Darden took heart, and continued.

"Put him on trial," she said quietly. "You have overwhelming evidence of his guilt. He will be convicted, but when he is convicted before the eyes of all Iziz, the truth will strengthen your hold on the city, and gain you many allies. Then do what the law demands." She shrugged, a bit self-conscious. But Kavar was smiling. He nodded.

"General Leona's advice is sound, Your Majesty," he said.

The Queen hesitated. "The price if you are wrong…" she murmured. "But you are not," she said decisively. "I cannot order this. It would be breaking our laws. You will stand trial, Vaklu," she said. She waved a contemptuous hand at Bostuco. "Take him away," she ordered. Vaklu was tied up and led away with the others.

The Queen turned to Darden. "What's done is done," she said quietly. She walked forward and took Darden's bloodied hands in her own bloodied hands. "Your name—Kavar tells me it is General Darden Leona?"

"I have been called General, Your Majesty," Darden said. "No more."

"Whatever you are called now, you have done us a great service," Talia said, squeezing her hands. "Indeed, I do not think it can ever be repaid. But I must go with Captain Kadron now. The fighting may still be going on in the city. It must be stopped. But I will return soon to try in some small way to express our thanks. The crisis is over because of you. Until I return—I believe Master Kavar would like to speak to you." She released Darden's hands. "If you'll excuse me."

She went with Captain Kadron and a few royalist soldiers and left the palace. Darden turned to the Handmaiden. "Go to the secondary security complex," she said. "Speak to Captain Riiken and see if you can't get a transmission to the Mandalorian camp on Dxun telling Canderous and the others what's happened here and that we're all fine. Find out what you can about the others." She looked at Kreia. "Go with her," she said.

Kreia's lip curled, but she bowed mockingly. She followed the Echani girl out of the room.

Darden looked around at the bloodstained tile, the carbon scoring on the walls. "This place is a mess," she said. "Is there anywhere in the palace that won't be?"

Kavar smiled. "Follow me."

He led her to the library. Alone among the public rooms of the palace, it had escaped any damage from the battle. The room was clean. The datafiles were neatly stacked on shelves organized by subject. There were even some actual books, the crumbling collectibles of some eccentric from hundreds of years ago, encased in glass. Darden hoped their contents had been transferred to a datapad and so preserved. Darden looked around, a little amused, and a little sad.

Kavar caught her mood immediately. "Yes," he said. "The palace is invaded and the attackers immediately move to control the supplies, the security systems, the center of power. No one moves to seize knowledge. Or to defend it." He led her to a table and sat down. She sat opposite him.

He was silent a moment, regarding her. "I wasn't sure you would come," he admitted at last.

"Of course I came," Darden answered him. "Even aside from the fact that the Sith are after all the Jedi and I need your help, whatever happened years ago, you are my Master. You took me on, you raised me. And when you need my help, I will _always_ come."

Kavar's mouth tilted up. "It is good to see you again. I have thought of you often, these years." Now he outright smiled. "They have not dulled your skill in battle."

"No," Darden said, unsure whether to be troubled or pleased by the assessment. "Zez-Kai ell on Nar Shadaa told me you were looking for me. May I ask why?"

Her Master shifted in his chair. "I told the other Masters that our only chance to find out what was happening to us was to find you and try to understand what happened to you," he told her. "I don't know how much you know, but this threat that's striking at the Jedi: it's attacking us through the Force." He grimaced, as though tasting something unpleasant. "Vrook didn't believe me. But he was willing to travel to Dantooine, if only to help the settlers there…and, perhaps, to protect what was left of the Jedi Enclave." He shrugged. "Whatever the reasons, having us all drop out of sight I thought might make the enemy more bold. But then you happened. You came back, and you became a new target for whoever was attacking us."

Darden stared down at her hands, dirty and bloody (though not with her blood) from the battle. "Someone leaked I was out there, Master," she said.

Kavar looked at her steadily. "Darden. I know nothing of this," he said quietly.

Darden looked back up and met his gaze. "I didn't think you did. So. You're hiding here because I fought here?"

Kavar inclined his head. "It is a place touched by war. I thought that you might return here, if only to try and make peace with what happened here during the war."

Darden snorted. "Dxun would've been a better bet, if you were looking for that."

Kavar smiled.

Darden laughed. "Didn't fancy hanging out with the cannoks? Can't say I blame you."

Kavar chuckled, too, but then grew grave, focused again. "At any rate, now it is irrelevant," he said. "The Sith have revealed themselves. According to the plan we made after Katarr, that means the remaining Jedi will gather on Dantooine. From there, we can counterattack."

Darden nodded. "That's what Atris told me on Telos."

Her Master frowned. "Telos? But Telos was destroyed during the Jedi Civil War. I hear they're trying to rebuild. You never…why would Atris go to Telos? I thought she was dead. I thought she had gone to Katarr…" he sighed, and suddenly the ten years since Darden had really seen him last—fifteen since she had really spoken to him—showed overwhelmingly on his face. "Too many Jedi have scattered. The Council needs to gather. We cannot remain concealed any longer."

Darden clasped her hands on the table. "Why did the Jedi go to Katarr, Master?" she asked.

"We knew that someone was preying on us, hunting us," he answered heavily, face lined with tragic memories. "Finally the Jedi decided to take action, and called a secret conclave on Katarr to decide what must be done. Before the meeting could even begin, all the Jedi on the planet were killed, along with the Miralukas and all other life on the planet. Their deaths could be felt throughout the galaxy. So the Council decided that we must not present ourselves as a target again. The consequences to others were too great. They decided that we should use our resources to find who was responsible and deal with them." He sighed, then looked down at her, smiling sadly. "I think you're the only one who's made any progress in the two years since Katarr."

"Oh, I've made progress, all right," Darden retorted, "If by that you mean they're all trying to kill me. Your enemy has revealed itself, Master Kavar."

"I know that all too well," Kavar said. "I came here to find them, to trace them to their source. The wars that had taken place on Dxun and Onderon—I had thought perhaps the tragedies that occurred here were concealing them."

Darden closed her eyes, sensing out across the empty space between Onderon and Dxun. Even without the Handmaiden's report, she could feel that the fighting had stopped on Dxun, and that her friends were all alive, though she could sense no more than that. A great Darkness had lifted. She opened her eyes and looked back at Kavar. "You were right," she said quietly. "The Sith were on Dxun. And they were defeated. But the Sith weren't the only ones to return to Dxun."

"No," Kavar said. "I imagine there are Mandalorians there as well. You've allied with them?"

"Yes. I travel with their leader, and he helps me. For the moment, he thinks the Mandalorians stand as much to gain as the Jedi from the defeat of the Sith. At any rate, a group of Mandalorians, led by some friends I have met on my journey, attacked the Sith base while I came here to fight in this battle." She paused, frowned. "Why here, though?" she asked. "Why did the Sith come here?"

"They wanted to aid General Vaklu in breaking away from the Republic," her Master answered her. "If Onderon became independent, this place would be an excellent staging ground for them." He frowned, and his blue eyes grew distant. "But I fear it was…more than that, too. The consequences of Onderon's fall would have greater implications for the galaxy."

Pieces of the puzzle shifted, and Darden swallowed. She felt she could almost see it, almost grasp what was happening here. But not…not quite yet. "Echoes," she said musingly. "Yes. I've heard." She looked down at her hands, bloody once again with the blood of her enemies. Or, perhaps, bloody even yet. "There's an…there's an echo in me, isn't there? Or there was. It's why you cast me out of the Order, isn't it?"

Kavar moved violently suddenly, seizing her hand. "The exile was never the punishment you thought it to be," he said firmly, then subsided, releasing her and looking down. "At least, I for one never intended it to be such. We could not have made you abide by it, in any event. But you did. I think you knew, inside, what you needed to do in order to heal. All those lives…all those you served beside in the Mandalorian Wars. You are right. Too much death leaves echoes in the Force; it is the price of having such connections. I suspect that is why you chose to accept the Council's judgment, to wander beyond the Rim. I suspect that is why you traveled with no one, and did not stay in any place too long. As I have said, I have thought of you often, since your trial, and there are times when I wonder if being connected to the Force is always the gift it is believed to be."

Darden held his gaze. "That's not an answer," she said.

Kavar sighed. "Until we all stand together on Dantooine, I do not think the time will be right to answer that particular question," he said finally.

Darden accepted this. "That's what Zez-Kai Ell said, too," she said. "You should know, though—whatever happened to me, I couldn't feel the Force for ten years after my exile. But since I have returned to Republic space, I have reestablished my connection to the Force. And I wouldn't trade it."

Kavar regarded her, his face blank. It was his testing face, his soldier face, where he revealed nothing, either by expression or by emotion. But Darden thought for a single moment she saw something like pity flicker in his eyes. "You always had deep connections to the Force," he said at last. "I am glad to see that it is once again your ally. When I first sparred with you during your training as a Padawan, I could tell that you were different. And it wasn't just your strong connection to the Force."

Now his face relaxed, and his true pride in her, his affection for her, his gratitude to be speaking with her once more, showed through. Darden thought of Mira, and the bounty hunter's accusation that she knew nothing of family. She didn't understand that to a Jedi, the Master of every apprentice was parent, teacher, and dearest friend. Malachor had been the worst day of Darden Leona's life. The second worst had been the day she was exiled from the Order. But parting from Kavar, disobeying him, hurting him, before the War, had been nearly as bad of a day.

Now to be talking with him, to know that he had missed her, to sense that he was proud of her and loved her still, was balm to Darden's wearied soul. "It's not just me, though," she found herself telling him. "There are others. I mentioned them. My friends, people I've met during my journey. They can feel the Force, too, many of them, though most were missed by the Jedi. There's so few of us left, Master. I—I'm training them, as best I can."

Kavar raised an eyebrow, but he looked interested. "The Echani girl?"

"She can sense the Force," Darden agreed, "But thus far she hasn't asked for training. But I hope she'll join us one day."

Her Master frowned. He was silent a long moment. "You always did form connections to others," he said finally. "Strong ones, even when you were a student. Perhaps your connection to these companions you have met enables you to feel their connection to the Force. And many things have changed since the Civil War. But you must be careful, Darden. Training just one apprentice is no light commitment, nor an easy one. I am not sure I trained you as well as…"

"Shut up," Darden interrupted him fiercely. "You know any fault in me was and remains mine, Master, and is not the result of your teachings. You were…you were _so _good to me. You taught me well. If I could only be confident of doing half so well with my students…especially with everything going on…" She trailed off, frowning.

Master Kavar again covered her hand with his. "Do not be afraid," he said. "Fear is of the Dark Side. Instead, trust to hope. If you feel through the Force that I trained you well, then believe that you will have the grace to train your apprentices well, also. Your exile is over, and you are correct. There are few of us left."

Darden bowed her head. Slowly, keeping her mind open this time, she asked, "You said…you said I form bonds with others. Strong ones. Could I have formed a bond so strong that when another feels pain, I feel it, too, and that if she dies, I…?"

Kreia had been lurking in the back of her head. Now she withdrew like lightning, erecting an iron wall around her consciousness. Darden felt a grim satisfaction, but Kavar was frowning.

"Masters and apprentices form bonds such as the one you describe," he said. "Pain, and strong emotions, can be transferred across them. During the Mandalorian Wars, I often felt _your_ pain, and it was my pain, too. But to such a fatal degree…? What you describe is beyond me. I'm sure others in the Jedi Council would be able to assist you, if you could find them. You say you have encountered both Atris and Zez-Kai Ell already?"

"Yes," Darden said. "They will come to Dantooine. I have yet to tell Master Vrook, though. Or find Master Vash."

"If they yet live and are to be found, I trust you will find them."

Darden fell silent, feeling his hand over hers, and knowing that, for the moment, they had said all there was to say. "Thank you, Master Kavar," she said.

"You have suffered much over the years," Kavar said quietly. "I sense it. Darden…my apprentice…I never wished you to…"

"Don't," Darden interrupted him, forcing a smile. "It was me. It was all of it my choice. To follow Revan, Malachor, to return. Perhaps even the exile, as you say. It's over now. And if…if you forgive me, I forgive you."

Kavar stood, helping her to her feet. "Always," he promised. "There is always redemption. Now. The Queen will wish to speak with you, and you will need to return to your friends on Dxun. But before you do, I would like to teach you something. A higher lightsaber form I believe will aid you in the trials ahead." He smiled ironically. "You left the week before I would have shown it to you, all those years ago."

Darden smiled back at him. "Well. I do have a new lightsaber," she said, taking up the old sparring position in the wide open central space beneath the library skylight and between the shelves of datafiles. She activated her double-bladed lightsaber, and Kavar activated his two.

He took up a stance similar to the one used for Makashi, but wider, lower. Darden moved so her body mirrored his. Kavar demonstrated a few passes, footwork, sweeps, stabs. "This is Ataru," he said. "An aggressive lightsaber form best used against a single opponent."

Darden focused, then, thinking of the Sith Lords after her. Sion. Visas' nameless horror of a Master. And the Lady of Betrayal, the one she thought she was fostering in her dorm room on the _Ebon Hawk_, the one she called teacher. And she and her old Master sparred, and she learned from him, as she had used to do.

When the lesson was done and both of them had worked up a sheen of sweat, Kavar was grinning. "Excellent!" he praised her. "I'm impressed with how quickly you've mastered this form. I always knew you were gifted. I'm going to Dantooine. The Jedi Council vowed to assemble again when the Sith revealed themselves. Now that they have attacked Onderon, we can act. Our paths will cross again."

"Especially since I'll be right behind you," Darden remarked drily. "I think it's about time I let Vrook know we're all coming."

Kavar deactivated his lightsabers and hung them on his belt. "Until then, Darden," he said. "May the Force be with You."

"May the Force be with You, Master Kavar," Darden replied, bowing. Then she hesitated, strode up, stood on tiptoe, and kissed the man who had been a father to her on his cheek.

He smiled, amused. "You have learned a thing or two in your exile. Or since you came back, perhaps." He clasped her arms and kissed her forehead in turn. Then he backed out, leaving her alone in the library.

* * *

Darden and her companions were washed, redressed in new clothes, and well-fed before the Queen could see them perhaps two hours after Kavar had left the palace library. The sun was going down over Iziz.

Talia received them in the throne room, washed and changed herself. Servants were mopping the floors. She came down from the dais and shook first Kreia's (whom _she _could see without issue), then the Handmaiden's, then Darden's hand. She held Darden's, as she had earlier that day. "I am sorry to keep you here," she said. "I needed to thank you personally for all of your help. Onderon owes both you and Master Kavar a debt that can never truly be repaid. Battles still wage in our streets, but by morning the conflict should be over."

She released Darden's hand and beckoned to a servant standing by with a large, red velvet box. The servant came forward. "I recognize you must leave soon, but please take this," the Queen said.

The servant opened the box. Darden saw a set of soft looking, elegantly dyed robes, and lying atop them was a wonderfully worked double-bladed lightsaber along with two crystals. "These relics are from the Royal Museum," Talia said softly. Her face fell in remembered shame. "They weren't…all too different from what we faced today. I know little of the Force, but I hope you can put my family's relics to good use."

The Handmaiden was staring at the double-bladed lightsaber worked in black and silver. Emotions swirled around her. Darden looked at her, then back to Talia. "I will certainly try, Your Majesty," she said. "My thanks." She took the box from the servant, and shut it.

"Captain Bostuco has made arrangements for a shuttle to take you back to your ship," said the Queen. "I fear it will be quite some time before you can come back. The war was brief, but destructive. I shall focus all my energy on rebuilding Iziz. Thank you again. I must go." She bowed.

"As must I," Darden said, bowing, too. "May the Force be with you and your people, Queen Talia."

She turned with her companions, and they followed Captain Bostuco to the shuttle waiting in the courtyard.

* * *

TWO HOURS LATER

The sun was just setting over Dxun now. Darden could tell because the trees to the west looked a little redder through the rain than the rest of the murky jungle. From the buildings the Mandalorians had set up as barracks around the camp, smoke and song and the smells of roasting large game emanated.

Similar sounds, if not smells, came from the boarding ramp of the _Ebon Hawk_. Darden heard Mira singing some Mandalorian victory song from inside, and something that sounded like Visas actually _laughing_. At the sound, the Handmaiden smiled widely. "It feels…it feels like coming home," she said, very quietly.

"It does, doesn't it?" Darden said, feeling a deep sense of wellbeing. "Let's get out of this rain."

"We should plot our next course of action," Kreia said, following the Handmaiden inside.

Darden made to follow them, and a man stepped out of the shadows, sopping wet, but grinning broadly. "Hey! You're back!" Atton said, falling into step beside her. "The gang's back together. You gotta tell me all about your vacation in Onderon."

Darden looked up at him. "And you have to tell me all about your archaeology expedition into the depths of a creepy tomb. But first thing's first." She stepped into the Ebon Hawk, shaking the water out of her hair. "Shower. Then a towel. Definitely a towel."

"Ooh, can I come, too?"

Darden rolled her eyes, then, looking up at him and realizing how happy he looked, and how happy she was to see him, wrapped an arm around his waist and leaned against him. He tensed, stunned for half a second, then hugged her back, tightly.

"No," Darden said quietly, smiling contentedly against his chest. "You can't come, too. I'm sorry, but you'll just have to wait."

She broke away, and punched him in the arm lightly. "What were you doing standing out in the rain waiting around for me, anyway, spacebrain?"

Atton grinned back at her, but didn't reply. That was fine, though. He didn't really need to yet.

* * *

**A/N: There we are. Don't really have anything to say about this one.**

**Coming (Eventually) Up: After a harrowing three weeks spent hammering out new relationships on the **_**Ebon Hawk**_** and mediating quarrels, Darden Leona and her companions finally land on Dantooine. Though Darden is starting to feel she'd rather face a host of Sith than spend another second aboard with ten bickering crewmates that seem to feel like she can (and should) fix everything, will she feel the same when she finds herself up against hundreds of small minded, angry settlers, mercs, and salvagers on Dantooine, instead? Especially when she discovers Zez-Kai Ell and Kavar have not yet arrived, and even Master Vrook has gone missing…**

**Keep reading! Keep reviewing!**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	25. Domestic Tribulations

**Disclaimer: Not mine.**

* * *

XXIV.

Domestic Tribulations

"We're going to Telos next," Darden said. "Then to Dantooine. Vrook can wait, and I don't want Vogga sending bounty hunters after us now Goto's stopped."

"Query: When do you plan to take care of these poorly put together imitations of me, Master? They wish to assassinate you as well, and they will not desist because the fat one claims to have revoked the termination order. Theory: As I have postulated before, if we could only locate two more teams of these units, I could locate the place of their origin, and we could obliterate these cheap copies."

Darden distinctly saw Visas' hand twitch towards her lightsaber. Mira gripped the edge of the conference table and rolled her eyes to the heavens. Everyone looked annoyed but Bao-Dur. He alone looked slightly sympathetic. "It's a hard thing, to be deactivated a unique model, and then wake up to find yourself replicated and the template corrupted," he offered. "But right now we have other things to do."

"Indeed," G0-T0 said. "Though I must question your methods. Obtaining fuel from a Hutt will only solve the situation on Telos on a temporary basis. In addition, it is probable that it will put you, and Telos, into…"

"Oh, shut _up_!" Mira snapped. "Yeah, so the Republic'll change credits with Vogga, and that's a bad place to be in. It doesn't mean they won't be able to find another way. A temporary solution is all they need. And Vogga's slimy like all the Hutts, but he is fairer than most."

G0-T0 rotated with a menacing hum. "You are the bounty hunter, Mira," he said. "Efficient, economical. I always admired your work, though you never did contracts for me. It is a disappointment to find you so…short-sighted."

Darden sighed. "G0-T0. Shut up. I'm not counteracting your objectives directly, and you promised that as long as I didn't, you'd stay quiet."

"Very well."

"Atton, just…just put us on course." A low grumble of discontent muttered through the crew, but they knew the meeting was over.

Darden sank back into her seat as one by one, the crew filed out of the conference room to strap themselves in, either in the main hold or in the dormitories. Darden stayed. She buried her head in her arms. Back after Telos, when she had first left with only five crew members, there had been arguments. But every time she had walked into the room, she had been able to resolve them quickly and efficiently. Now, nearly three months on and with twice the number of people aboard, the bickering had increased exponentially. And she couldn't be everywhere at once.

Kreia hated everyone, and everyone hated HK-47 and G0-T0. Except Bao-Dur, who only hated Mandalore. Mandalore didn't seem to really hate anybody, but he certainly picked fights with Bao-Dur anytime he got the chance. The Handmaiden and Atton were always sniping at one another. Atton was always losing pazaak games to T3-M4, and even though he swore the droid cheated he kept playing. Arguments broke out almost every hour on the hour. Darden might have secluded herself with Bao-Dur, T3-M4, and the workbench, except HK-47 lived in the garage, too, now. Mira's storage room was too small for the both of them to spend all day in there. As much as she liked the Handmaiden, she didn't want to spend all day training. She couldn't hang out with Atton all the time. She liked him. She liked him a lot. But she didn't want to make their business the crew's business. Mira already asked questions, and the Handmaiden and Kreia frowned at her every time they saw her with him. Sometimes, it was all Darden could do not to lock herself in the med bay and hide. But she had responsibilities to these people that followed her leadership, especially to the ones she was training.

"Can't take it, Leona?" a sardonic voice filtered through a helmet asked.

Darden looked up at Mandalore and glared. He'd stayed. Now he sat, and buckled himself in with the belt on the back of the chair. He lifted his gauntleted hands, mockingly assuring her he came in peace.

"You've taken on a lot of responsibility here. Everyone knows you're under a lot of stress. Well…" he qualified, "The ones with any brains at all know. It's the price of being a leader."

He reached up and removed his helmet. It was an unexpected move. He almost never took the thing off. Only to eat and sleep, and he usually did those necessary duties alone, where no one could see. "Revan dealt with the same thing, when I knew her. Everyone on board this bucket arguing over where she should go and what she should do when she got there, wanting her to solve their own damn problems, save the galaxy, but in the way _they_ wanted her to do it. She was good about it, but sometimes she went into the cargo hold and just cried. Or smashed up a couple dozen remotes." He laughed, grimly. "And her crew wasn't _nearly _as cannibalistic as this bunch."

The ship jerked into motion beneath them. The familiar g-force glued Darden to her seat, until the _Ebon Hawk_ hit the atmosphere. Then her body started to float away, until Atton hit the gravity simulator, and she fell back into her seat. "What do you want, Canderous?" she asked, wearily.

"This is your crew," he said. "These are your fights to resolve, and you have to protect these people and do what's best for them. This is your headache. But I just left mine. Again."

Darden focused on him. "Yeah?"

"Right now we both seek the same goals," he said, looking directly into her eyes and drumming his fingers on the top of his helmet. "Whatever our reasons may be. We still haven't stopped the Sith, so I'm still with you. If the Sith destroy the Jedi, the Republic will fall, and my people will be eradicated or enslaved. But don't forget that they are _my_ people, and these aren't. As Mandalore, my primary duty is the unification of the clans."

"I know, Canderous," Darden said wearily. "We've discussed it before."

"I'll fight beside you, but I'm warning you: don't get in my way. I'm not asking for help. I'm ust asking you to let me do this. Cross me, and I might have to reevaluate our arrangement."

The _Ebon Hawk_ bucked, and the hyperdrive hummed as Atton kicked her into hyperspace. Darden waited a moment for the ship to level, then stood. She stared at Canderous over the table. "You have been a help, and I appreciate it, but that's a lie: that you're not asking for my help. You are. You're asking for a ride."

Canderous opened his mouth, but Darden raised a hand, holding his gaze.

"It's okay," she said. He blinked. She smiled at him. "I don't have a problem right up until you fire at the first innocent Republic citizen trying to relive the glory days," she said.

Canderous stood, too. He smiled a little strangely. "Our next battle need not be fought against the Republic," he said. "After we've dealt with the Sith, perhaps you can deal with us. Or perhaps we can form an alliance of our own."

Darden stared at him. Something lurked in the back of his blue-green eyes, some part of his story he hadn't told her. "Hmm," she said. "Perhaps we can. At any rate, I understand you perfectly, Canderous. And thank you again. Dxun wasn't the first time you've commanded the defense of the _Ebon Hawk._"

"No. Don't think it'll be the last, either," he said. "You and me got plenty of trouble ahead of us, kid." He put his helmet back on. "Afraid I won't be much help with the crew, though. I'm not the most popular crew member around here. Wasn't then, either. Good luck. You'll need it."

Darden watched him go. She considered sitting down again, then didn't. Feeling rather rash, she went up to the cockpit and sat down in the copilot's seat.

Atton could hear what happened in the conference/communications room from the cockpit. "What was that about?" he asked.

"Mandalore likes it here too much," Darden said grumpily. "He wanted to remind me that he's Mandalore and that therefore we are, or might be, enemies after all this is over with." She rolled her eyes. "All very macho. And not what needed to hear today."

"I could help you bang everyone's heads together, if you wanted," Atton volunteered.

Darden laughed grimly. "How long are we looking at to Telos? Ten days? I might be ready to take you up on that by the end of them."

"Why're we going there first? Really. You're not really scared Vogga's gonna send a lot of thugs after us. We pretty much threw all the bounty hunters on Nar Shaddaa into chaos when we were there," Atton pointed out.

Darden grimaced. "So I'm not overwhelmingly anxious to see Master Vrook. He's no Atris, but he _really_ doesn't like me. He never did, even before I went to war." She laughed a little, and seeing that Atton was listening, continued. "There wasn't a week growing up on Dantooine that he wasn't lecturing me for _something. _'You are too hasty, Padawan'; 'Out on the plains again? Your neglect of your studies shows a slothfulness that is troubling!' 'You are always at the records, young Padawan. Your greed for knowledge hints at a lust for power that will surely lead to the Dark Side!'" As she spoke she put on a rough, disapproving tone, mimicking how he had sounded to her back then.

Atton laughed. "So which was it?" he asked. "Were you a lazy bum or a little bespectacled apprentice greedily devouring knowledge?"

"Both! If there was a way to be wrong, I was it," Darden told him. "Kavar got mad at him sometimes for interfering so much, actually." She played with the corner of her robe, looking out into hyperspace thoughtfully. "I really think he was just jealous the Younglings he was supposed to be instructing liked me better," she said. "They _were_ always neglecting their lessons to come play with me. And I probably _did_ let them too often."

"You like kids, huh?"

Darden made a face. "Not the really little ones. But the older ones, yeah. I just—I don't want to see Master Vrook quite yet. Or Dantooine," she said sadly. "I didn't always live there, when I was young. But I spent many years there, nonetheless. I don't…I don't want to see what it's become."

Atton checked the course of the _Ebon Hawk_, then pressed the button for autopilot, and turned his chair to face her. "That's fear," he said. "Are you going to let it into your head after telling us all to master it?"

Darden leaned forward. "I suppose you're right," she admitted, bracing her elbows on her knees and propping her head on her hands to look at him. "But I did promise I'd find fuel for Citadel Station. Now I have, it's hardly fair to make them wait any longer for it. But we'll go immediately afterwards. I'll face up to Vrook's lecturing…and to whatever's become of the Enclave…as bravely as you like."

"Just so long as you do," Atton said. "If I have to do it, so do you."

"You did do it, though, didn't you?" Darden said. "Bao-Dur and Visas told me of your actions in the tomb of Freedon Nadd when I returned last night. You've won their trust, Atton, and Visas said that if it weren't for you, she could never have stayed strong."

His ears went red, and he turned away slightly. After a pause, he said, "I thought you were making a big mistake, sending _me_ in yesterday, putting me in charge. But I needed to go in there. Needed to face the Dark Side, say no. I thought becoming a Jedi would make me weaker, but it hasn't. I'm stronger now, at peace." He turned back then, raised an eyebrow at her. "You knew."

Darden grinned at him. "You didn't, and you needed to. So now you do. I knew you would get the job done, learn something about yourself, and keep the others strong in the bargain. It wasn't just about you, though. I wanted the others to know they could trust you, too."

Atton smiled wryly. "You took a big risk there. Could've lost all your credits, sweetheart."

"Betting on you? Never."

Atton laughed. Then he saw she was serious. He went very, very still. His eyes darkened, and Darden's heart started to pound. But he laughed again, though it was strained this time. "Don't say things like that, Darden. I might start thinking you mean them."

Darden sat up and moved forward in her seat, so her knees almost touched his. "Who's to say I don't?" she challenged him. "I trust you, Atton. I believe in you. And I know you won't let me down."

Atton erupted. "But I could have, Darden. You don't know how close it was a couple times back there. You don't know how close it's been a few times throughout this entire crazy gizka chase. What if I do end up screwing things up? What then?"

Darden looked at him levelly. "Then you'll be sorry, and I'll forgive you," she said quietly.

"And what if I'm not sorry?" Atton retorted, eyes blazing.

Darden held his gaze. "I will still forgive you," she said, slowly and firmly. "And _I'll_ be sorry."

Atton closed his eyes. He turned his chair away, then, and took the _Ebon Hawk_ off autopilot. He flew her, gripping the controls so tightly his knuckles were as white as bone. His mind had been open, his emotions there for her to feel. Now all Darden could sense from him were pazaak cards. He was playing with a fierce, fierce concentration. Darden sat there, and waited.

Someone called her name out in the main hold. She rose.

"Darden—"Atton said at last in a choked sort of voice. She paused. He pushed autopilot again, and stood. He stood before her, took her face between his hands, and slowly, giving her plenty of time to back away, lowered his lips to hers.

It was different than she had imagined it would be, judging first from the fantasies she had seen in his mind, and later, from a few of her own. He didn't kiss her aggressively, or angrily, in the grip of some dark passion. Instead, he was timid. Apologetic, even. He was gentle, respectful, painfully controlled. And far, far, too soon, he backed away. Darden stared at him. That single kiss had been more honest and more vulnerable than Atton ever was speaking. And…and she realized, that's why he had shared it with her.

She nodded slowly, and a ghost of a smile crossed his face. Then she turned, and went to see what Mira wanted.

Mira, it turned out, had a problem with HK-47 shooting holes in the wall of the garage. So did everyone. Slowly, controlling her temper, Darden explained to HK-47 that if he wanted to practice his marksmanship he had to do it in the cargo hold, where the walls were specially made for that kind of abuse. And to do that, he had to ask the Handmaiden's permission, and no, he could not simply drug her if she said no.

HK-47's red eyes glowed at the end of Darden's tirade. "Statement: Master, if you could indulge me for a moment, I must express some degree of irritation at your actions," he said, as if he'd been holding it in for a long time.

"Sure. Go ahead," Darden sighed wearily.

"Continuation: Perhaps my anticipation at working with one who served at Malachor V was too high, but you are countering all those expectations," he said.

"I am, am I?"

"Statement: Well, all your behavior up to this point suggests either strong atonement or confirmation that the atrocities attributed to you during the war were in fact, accidents," HK-47 said decisively.

Darden folded her arms. "They weren't accidents," she growled. "Make your own conclusions. I don't want to talk about it with you."

"Statement: I suspected as much, master," HK-47 said. "There are few who would discuss such things with an assassination droid, and that is perfectly understandable. I mean, what use is there for communication in a galaxy such as ours? Understanding might be achieved, or sympathy might be gained by such callous acts. You are right to suppress your past. I have seen the damage repressing such things brings, and it is far preferable to sharing such traumas."

Darden almost drew her lightsaber and swiped his rusty head off, before collecting herself with the reminder that that was probably exactly the behavior he wanted. "You are every bit as obnoxious as Mission Vao said," she muttered. "Are you trying to provoke me?"

"Answer: Why no, Master," HK-47 answered. "I have no intention of attacking you or enacting assassination protocols."

"Fine," Darden said. "Why do you want to know, anyway?"

"Answer: Why, because your actions then and now are related and I feel I need some context," the droid explained. "I confess to being somewhat needy that way."

Darden sighed. "What are you on about now?" she demanded.

"Statement: Sometimes, Master, it is difficult for meatbags to step back and gain some perspective on death and its importance in their insignificant lives. Explanation: You see, Master, assassination is such a versatile tool," he said dreamily. "I have seen the removal of a single target have far-reaching consequences for a nation, world, even a galaxy. The repercussions of even the smallest lives, whether dead or alive, can have profound implications on history. But surely you realize this."

Darden scowled. "Kreia talks about it enough. But what do you mean?"

"Statement: Why, your own life, Master," HK-47 answered in a tone of some surprise. "Your single life changed the face of the galaxy, of history itself. Malachor V was an impressive act of destruction, but its impact on the lives of others in the galaxy was far more extreme. I mean, Master, you brought about the death of the Mandalorian race. I doubt they realize it yet, but you dealt them a blow from which they will never recover."

Darden crossed her arms. "Don't tell Canderous that. Look, just don't shoot the walls in here, okay? Or the Handmaiden, if she says you can't shoot the walls in the cargo hold. Just—don't."

"Retort: I was merely making an observation, Master. I was only trying to bring death—and its impact—to your attention."

"I know," Darden said. "Goodbye."

She walked away, and HK-47's lights blinked out as he shut down to recharge. Darden considered dumping him out the airlock, then decided not to. T3-M4 disliked him, too, but nevertheless, he'd be upset. He'd gone to so much trouble trying to fix HK-47 to protect Darden. And Bao-Dur _would_ call him a marvel of engineering.

So she caught sight of Canderous in the doorway, and thought of Revan. _She'd go a couple dozen rounds with the remotes, huh?_ She headed to the cargo hold, shut the door, and stripped. The Handmaiden was already in her underwear, which she still trained in, half the time.

"Let's go," she said. "We're working the advanced stuff now, aren't we?"

The Handmaiden smiled, put down her weapon, and attacked. They fought. Darden fought her with all the complicated Echani kicks, stances, and punches the Handmaiden had taught her over months of sparring. She endeavored to forget about the crew's arguments, or the problems Atton's feelings for her and her feelings for Atton could cause, or the veiled threats from G0-T0, HK-47, and, to a lesser extent, Canderous, and just fought. She danced, darted and weaved. She struck hard, because she knew by now that the Handmaiden could handle it. Mandalore had more battle experience than Darden. Visas had more anger. Bao-Dur and Atton both were her superiors in strength. But the Handmaiden alone could match her for speed and intuition in battle, and sparring with her was exhilarating.

They danced, gave and received blows, fought for what seemed like hours, until their fists and feet were red and their limbs were hot and their hair plastered to them with sweat. And at last, Darden knocked the Handmaiden to the floor, and she did not rise. Instead she remained there, kneeling before Darden. "Atris…was…correct about you," she panted. "You know war…its motions…its currents. There is…nothing more I can teach you."

Darden reached down, grabbed the girl's hand, and pulled her to her feet. "Then will you let me teach you, at last? You know I've wanted to for a long time."

The girl withdrew her hand, turned away. "I have already learned much of your styles and combat," she said. "There is no need to know more." But she trembled, half turned.

"What's the problem?" Darden asked. "What holds you back?"

"I have…I have taken an oath to Atris," she said at last. "Against studying from a Jedi, or studying anything of the Jedi teachings."

"But you want it so badly," Darden said softly. "And you have the talent. Why take an oath?"

The girl didn't answer directly. "My father broke his oaths," she said. "He shamed us all. I do not wish to follow his path. I swore not to follow his path. If I were to follow a Jedi against Atris' wishes, then I would be betraying her. For you."

Darden stood square before the girl, in her underwear, open face and body to the Echani's gaze. "You know me, you trust me. We've fought side by side. And I know you. So I ask you right now, what do _you _want?"

The Handmaiden broke away, began pacing. "This is…difficult for me," she said. "Please, be silent as I tell you this. You are correct. It is my desire to learn from you what you can teach me of battle. I have learned much in our duels, from watching you in your lessons, and as you go out into the galaxy. But with every battle I wish to know more of you, you who welcome all with open arms, you who hold no grudges, and walk in full consciousness of the shame of what you have done, yet without loss of your honor. In your stance, your movement, I can sense shades of meaning, a growing peace, and an echo of something I have yet to experience.

"Atris said that in the Mandalorian Wars, you stared into the heart of war, and in the end, you only turned away because you were forced to. I do not believe her. I believe you when you tell me that making the choice you did broke your heart, as my father's choice broke his. And that is important to me, more than you know. And you—you have become important to me, Darden Leona."

Darden had listened as the Handmaiden finally said all that had been in her heart for weeks on end, and she watched as the Handmaiden stood straight finally.

"I will—I will accept whatever you wish to teach me, though it breaks my oath to Atris."

Darden nodded. "Then listen to me. The Force is with you. A gift, given to you by your mother. You know this already. I can show you how to feel it, how to use it."

"Then that is what I would ask of you," the Handmaiden replied, her eyes growing brighter now that she had finally made the choice she had striven to make all this time. "Teach me the ways of the Force, and I can become a Jedi Knight, like my mother."

Darden looked at her. "You have to be sure about this, _last of the Handmaidens_," she pressed. "If I train you, I want it to be good for you."

The Handmaiden seized her hand and pressed it. "Listen to me. I am already committed. I have watched you, and hungered for what you have, for what you teach the others, all this time. There is no one else I would want to train me. I have seen you in battle, I have seen your heart, and you are what I want to be. It is like a hollow place inside of me. I have always felt it. But you make me think that the Force may fill it."

"Then I will teach you," Darden said.

"That is all I wish," the Handmaiden said. "I want to feel what ran through my mother's veins when she was one with the Force. I wish to hear what my mother heard as she fought the Mandalorians…until the moment she died on Malachor V."

Darden smiled at her, and withdrew her hand gently. "Well, then. This evening, when lessons begin, cross from the doorway, and join us."

"I will," the Handmaiden promised.

* * *

THAT EVENING

"What do you think you will accomplish, training the servant of Atris?" Kreia demanded as soon as Darden walked in for her evening lesson. "Her mind is closed to the mysteries of the Jedi. Some little Sensitivity she may have, but all her life she has been trained to block out the Force, its currents. The blinded one and the alien might be Jedi one day. The fool and the huntress, at least, pose _you_ no danger. But to train such a one as the servant of Atris is like lowering your head for the saber's fall. I cannot protect you if you combat me at every turn!"

"I don't want your protection!" Darden snapped. "You say we are bonded, that my life is bound to yours. You whisper in my head and I felt the severance of your hand, so I cannot deny you, and I allow you to remain. You call yourself my teacher. Very well. I shall learn what I can from you. It is only common sense to do so. But that does not mean that I will be what you want me to be or act in the manner you dictate, Kreia! My life is my own; my path is my own. The Handmaiden is no threat to me. She feels the Force, she wants the Force, she asked me for training, and I will train her!"

She stood before Kreia, blazing. Kreia remained seated.

"And what of the girl?" she said, quietly. "If you will not consider your own safety, consider hers. The servant of Atris is the child of a dishonored man, and she carries her father's dishonor in the eyes of all her people. Already her sisters despise her. Would you have them reject her entirely? And what of Atris? She will not forgive this betrayal, this desertion." She paused, then continued, mercilessly. "You do not consider the consequences of your actions, exile. Always you act in the moment, perceiving only the immediate need, the logical response at the time. Pah! Logic! It is the machine's tool, not the Jedi's ally. Every action you take has consequences, emanating outward from you, through your companions, the people you meet, the planets you walk upon, and all throughout the galaxy. And these pupils of yours, the ones you call your 'friends': consider carefully what you are molding. Mandalore can tell you: such instruments are not always the happier for their forging."

Darden had been growing steadily colder as Kreia spoke. Now she blanched, recalling that Canderous had indeed said something of the kind, once, and what he had said. Kreia smiled cruelly. Silkily, she added, "For that matter, you should yourself have learned the lesson. It seems that you have forgotten it."

Darden swallowed. "I did what had to be done," she said. "It was my choice to stop the Mandalorians, and it was my choice not to fight the Jedi. It is my choice now to help them, and not to lie down quietly and die. Those that will stand with me will find a welcome. It is not my place to deny them their choice. As for my hastiness, there is one instance I can think of where I have not rushed into what seemed appropriate at the time. There is one instance where I have waited, and am waiting, to see where the Force might take me. I can play the long game, too."

"Can you?" Kreia asked. Her tone indicated she understood perfectly. "Then we shall see who will win, in the end."

"And in the meantime, I shall make my choices, and you will teach me," Darden replied.

Kreia inclined her head, subsiding for the moment. They had both said what they needed to. Neither of them had changed their opinion. Darden could feel Kreia's anger simmering beneath the surface. She knew Kreia could feel hers. She was utilizing it, to block further access into her mind. She remained standing, but she bowed, signaling the beginning of their lesson.

"We've talked about many aspects of the Force," Darden said. "But it occurs to me that we've never touched on lightsaber combat. I've been fighting with this thing for two months, but I'm still for the most part just using the basics. I don't remember the higher forms. Could you help me?"

Kreia stood, quickly and gracefully for an old, handicapped woman. "Very well. Follow me."

She led Darden across the ship, stopping once in the garage to pick up two practice sabers Bao-Dur had built for single-hilt sparring. Darden followed Kreia all the way to the vacant men's dormitory, where Visas usually spent the majority of the day meditating before returning to the women's dorm at night. Kreia addressed the Miraluka in an irritated voice, "If you travel with us, blinded one, then you shall work for your passage on this vessel."

Visas stood, and turned her face to Darden. Darden caught the question in her emotions. She rolled her eyes. "Kreia wants you to help keep me up with my lightsaber training," she said. "You're probably more advanced than I am, just now. I can't teach the others when I've forgotten half I know."

Visas straightened. "Your lightsaber. Give it to me," Kreia ordered tersely.

Visas' hand flexed around the double-bladed grip. "I shall die before it passes from my hands," she declared.

Kreia merely extended her hand. "Your lightsaber. Give it to me," she repeated, more forcefully.

Darden stepped forward. "She's not going to do anything bad, Visas," she assured the Miraluka. Angry as she was at Kreia, she knew the old woman wasn't about to attack anyone. Not yet, and not like this, though she wouldn't venture to trust to Kreia's harmlessness in the future.

Visas relaxed infinitesimally, and handed the weapon over. Kreia activated it, looking it over.

"The crystal I took from the condensed mists on K—" Visas began, speaking obviously of the supplementary crystals that had not been damaged when Darden had damaged the lightsaber, and not of the synthetic red focusing crystal that she had changed after she had rebuilt it on Nar Shaddaa.

Kreia cut her off, handing it back. "It is adequate," she said dismissively. "You are young. Your energy for such things surpasses mine. And your skill is enough that you may teach her the basics of the weapon. There is much she has forgotten."

Visas hesitated. She hadn't been training long, Darden knew. Though she had seen with the Force all her life, she had only used it aggressively these past two years perhaps, and that as a Sith. "There is only so much I can teach her," she said.

"That fact did not escape me," Kreia said. She turned to Darden and handed her one of the single-bladed practice sabers, taking Darden's own double-bladed one in exchange. "Now. Try to kill her with the single blade. Use no other Force technique, no items, merely the blade."

"Single handed?" Darden said, looking up at the taller Miraluka with the double-bladed saber. "Kreia—"

"You may not always have both your hands!" Kreia snapped. "Now do it!"

Darden looked down at the single practice saber. She hadn't ever used a single hilt with more than a practice vibroblade, to get the feel for the forms. She'd always needed the extra range of the double-bladed weapon. Privately she thought that if ever she didn't have both her hands, she'd probably revert back to a blaster. Or a grenade. But she nodded. "Fine. Visas? You ready?"

"This is no Echani etiquette ritual!" Kreia cried. "Do not ask her—attack her!"

Darden tossed her bangs out of her eyes and glared. "Fine!" She looked at Visas. "Let us begin."

She waited for Visas to make the first move, taking a defensive position. But Visas didn't. She waited, sensing. Finally, Darden took the new stance, the Ataru stance, and lashed out. Visas blocked in a heartbeat. Then she retaliated.

Kreia had not forbidden _Visas_ from using Force attacks. At first she didn't. At first, she merely defended herself, and sometimes replied to Darden's thrust with a slice of her own. But as Darden got the feel for the weapon, the slightly slower, more decisive, and choppier rhythm of single-hilt combat, Visas grew bolder, testing Darden's growing competence. Kreia had said 'try to kill'. But neither of them did. Not really. Darden's was a practice saber, at any rate. It could burn through clothes and hair, scorch skin. Break bones, if she swung hard enough. But it couldn't cut. Couldn't slice. Visas' could. But she didn't want to kill, just to train. So a few times, when Darden couldn't compensate for the single blade and left an opening, Visas swung for it, but checked her blow, letting the burning beam of energy come just close enough that Darden could smell it, feel the heat as it passed her skin by millimeters. But as they fought these openings grew rarer and rarer. Darden picked up speed, began mixing her forms, catching higher ones as Visas used them against her. She gained a sense of how Visas would move, and started anticipating her attacks. That's when Visas started throwing the Force attacks at her.

The Force caught up Darden in a swirling wind of energy, lifted her off her feet and spun her around, draining her energy. Visas' orange blade sliced here, there, a dozen different places, hissing as it burned holes in her clothes. "When you meet my Master, he will not hold back!" she cried. "You _must_ be prepared for anything. Defend yourself, Darden Leona!"

Darden, mindful of Kreia's instructions and her watchful presence, lashed out wildly with the single blade. She connected with Visas right arm, and the blade hissed through Visas' robe, creating its own blackened hole. It touched her skin, too. Darden, still spinning, could not check it. But Visas did not cry out. The whirlwind released her. Darden fell back on her feet, throwing her arms out to keep her balance, and when she had centered in half a second, she found Visas smiling. Visas took up a defensive position again, and they resumed.

Now Darden had to watch for little muscle tensions, sense little changes in emotion and thought from her opponent that foretold coming Force attacks, so she could dodge to one side, as well as fight on with the blade. Visas knocked her back two meters once, but she stayed on her feet, and after that, the Miraluka didn't catch her. And soon, Darden was fighting quickly and well enough with the single blade that she was finding openings in _Visas_' defense. Sparring with another trained in the use of the lightsaber, rather than those she herself was training, was bringing the fifteen years' training she'd had as a child back. Besides, Visas had experience using the lightsaber, but she'd never fought a war with it.

At last, Kreia held up a hand. "Enough!" she said. Darden stopped, breathing heavily, and deactivated her lightsaber. Visas' robe was in tatters. Darden's own clothing had holes in a dozen places, but on the whole, Visas was worse off, and the burning flesh Darden could smell in the air was the Miraluka's. She bit her lip. Three or four times she hadn't been able to stop her saber's momentum. "You have defeated her," Kreia continued. "Perhaps tomorrow we shall continue, with two lightsabers instead of one." She took the practice saber, returned Darden's own lightsaber to her, and left the dormitory. Darden turned to Visas.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"It is nothing," Visas said. "Anything that I may do to help prepare you for what lies ahead I am proud, happy, eager to do. My pain is meaningless, so long as you succeed."

"It's not meaningless," Darden argued. "Here. Let me."

She ran her hands over the four places her blows had fallen on Visas, soothing the skin, growing new cells to replace the ones she had killed with the heat of the practice blade. "Thank you," she said softly. "I didn't want to hurt you, but this really will help me." She laughed at the state of Visas' robe. "Afraid I can't do much about the clothes. I can sew a busted seam, but this sort of heavy-duty repair work is beyond my level of domestic skill."

Visas ran light hands over Darden's clothes. She could 'see' Darden's body, every bit of it, with the Force. She knew she had not hurt her. But the clothes were dead, without energy. She could not see them. So she had to feel for the damage she had done there. "Your clothing is hardly better off than mine," she said ruefully. "Was it…was it beautiful?"

Darden laughed. "Hardly. Some secondhand workout clothes I picked up from a vendor on Nar Shaddaa. And not a respectable one, either. There's a weird gray stain on the left leg, and the whole thing is this hideous puke-green. Trust me, you did me a favor."

It was a lie. Though the clothes weren't beautiful, and they were secondhand from Nar Shaddaa, intended for evening practice, Darden had rather liked them. The loose, neat white shirt and full, comfortable brown pants had suited her, and there wasn't a stain to be seen on them. Or, there hadn't been. But Visas didn't need to know that.

"How about we use the same ones tomorrow, though, just in case," she said.

"I think that is a good idea," Visas agreed.

* * *

The second day of lightsaber training with Kreia and Visas progressed much like the first. Again, Darden was forbidden to use Force techniques when attacking Visas, and no such restrictions were placed on the Miraluka. Again, Darden was obliged to fight in a lightsaber style quite different than her own. Dual-wielding was not quite so unfamiliar to her as the single hilt combat. Master Kavar had favored the dual sabers. So had Revan. So Darden at least had had ample experience of what the lightsaber techniques should look like when executed with two weapons. So on the second day Darden caught the rhythm faster. Visas fought in the same manner she had before. At first, she held back, giving Darden time to grow accustomed to her weapon. Then she attacked with increasing violence, eventually adding Force attacks, sporadically spacing them so as to catch Darden off guard. She didn't, this time, and eventually Kreia was satisfied with Darden's performance and called a halt, indicating they would continue again the next day.

On the third day, Kreia did not bring the practice sabers from the garage. But when they arrived in the men's dormitory, she still extended her hand for Darden's own lightsaber. "Today," she said quietly, "I wish you to divest yourself of your weapons."

Darden looked at her, then handed over her weapon. Visas made to do the same, but Kreia shook her head. "You—blinded one—you will keep yours."

Visas hesitated. She looked to Darden. "Do as she says," Darden said.

Kreia smiled, pleased. "Let us see what you can do when you have no weapons left to you."

Darden took up one of the Echani battle stances the Handmaiden had taught her. Visas activated her lightsaber. Darden, mindful Kreia was watching, immediately shoved out with the Force, threw Visas back three meters, and froze her there, in Stasis.

Kreia rose from where she was seated on the floor, face terrible. "You have disobeyed me," she said. "Why?"

Darden released Visas. Visas deactivated her lightsaber, and stood, listening.

"I have not disobeyed," Darden said quietly. "Today you said nothing about not using Force techniques."

There was a long pause. "No I did not," Kreia said at last. Her face was unreadable. "Why did you resort to them?"

Darden faced the old woman full on. "In a real battle, I will use whatever weapons I have available to me to preserve myself and my friends, and, if necessary, to defeat my enemies."

She let it hang in the air. Visas looked suddenly from Darden to Kreia. But Kreia smiled. "It is enough," she said. "There is nothing more for me to teach you. You know as much of battle as I."

She walked away, back to the women's dormitory. Darden turned to Visas. "Are you hurt?"

Visas shook her head. "You halted me before I could hit the wall. You know this." She was silent. "Is Kreia an enemy, Darden?"

"I hope not," Darden said. "But sometimes I do wonder. She meant me to try to kill you, these last three days. She meant you to try to kill me…" she trailed off, suddenly thoughtful. "Thank you, Visas. I will see you in an hour's time, in the garage, with the others."

"I will be there," Visas promised.

Darden left the men's dormitory, ignoring Atton's wolf-whistle at the remnants of her clothes (they really scarcely hid her underwear anymore, and she'd stopped wearing the Republic-issued stuff) as she passed through the main hold, all the way to the women's dormitory. She shut the door, went to her footlocker, opened it, and started to change.

Kreia was sitting on her bunk, looking at the floor. Darden addressed her as she pulled off her rags and tossed them into the dormitory incinerator. "So. What were you trying to find out about Visas? Those duels with her weren't just about making me stronger. You were testing her."

"Perhaps," Kreia said, the shadow of a smile dancing underneath her hood. "You have spent time with the servant of Atris. You know that among the Echani, they believe that much may be communicated in the motions of battle. It is a picture, a dance, against someone trying to describe that motion."

"That's what she says, anyway," Darden replied, pulling on another pair of pants. "What have you learned watching Visas?"

"You will not need to kill her when the time comes," Kreia said, the faintest of sneers in her voice. "But if we want one who has truly fallen to the Dark Side, we should look elsewhere for our allies. I believe she should serve our purposes, however. She is the doorway that may lead us to her Lord if it proves necessary, or bring him to us."

Darden finished buckling her belt over her vest and shirt, and sat down to put her boots back on. "If you had asked instead of manipulated, I could have told you all of that without fighting her," she said. "When I'm ready, she'll take me to her Master. She's said so. But she's no pawn." She stood to go to group lessons in the garage. "Kreia?"

The old woman lifted her head.

"Neither am I."

* * *

ONE WEEK LATER

Darden was vaguely surprised when the _Ebon Hawk_ was cleared to land on Citadel Station with no trouble whatsoever. She was even a little insulted. Here she'd caused no end of trouble last time on Telos, shooting up offices and breaking a not-quite arrest by taking illegal transport of the Station, and when she stepped out of the _Ebon Hawk_ with Mira and Atton, no-one was in the docking bay to so much as say boo.

"Huh," she said to her companions. "Maybe it's the ID codes?"

"No way," Atton said. "The codes would trick people who hadn't seen the _Hawk, _but the old girl's kind of unmistakable if you've actually seen her in the dock." He looked up at the carbon-scored paint and the patchwork hull-work. "She's got it where it counts, but she's not exactly pretty."

He reached up and touched the nose right by his head fondly. "Anyway, shouldn't you be glad they're not arresting us? Any day we don't go to jail is a good day in my book. Compared to a lot of the welcomes we've had, Telos is throwing out the red carpet."

"What exactly happened here last time?" Mira wanted to know.

"Exterminated the Exchange, overthrew the political-economic balance of the entire Station, broke arrest for suspicion of destroying a planet, thereby snubbing an admiral of the Republic Fleet," Darden rattled off blithely.

"The usual," Atton said darkly.

"Oh," Mira said. "Well if that's _it_…"

Darden grinned at her. "Come on. Let's go talk to the people who've had to deal with the mess."

Lieutenant Grenn _did_ scowl a bit when she walked into the TSF office, but he didn't flinch for a second. "So you've returned," he said, as blasé as you please.

Darden was even more annoyed. "Yeah. Aren't you going to arrest me, or something?"

Atton coughed behind her.

Lieutenant Grenn frowned sternly. "While I was disturbed that you chose to defy our orders and obtain transport off Citadel Station, the matter has since been closed," he said. "It was the decision of the Republic authorities that your testimony would no longer be necessary, and thus you'd be allowed to go." He cleared his throat. "But, as we discovered, you had already left. In some ways, it was lucky for us. We avoided a potentially embarrassing situation."

The back of Darden's neck was hot. Well. Dustil and Mission had said the Republic wasn't _after_ them. She'd thought at the time that it just meant that the Republic wasn't desperate enough to order its covert agents after her yet, but wanted to apprehend her publicly. Apparently that wasn't the case at all, though. She coughed now. "Well. Now I'm embarrassed instead, aren't I?"

A ghost of a smile flickered around Grenn's mouth.

"Why'd the Republic change their minds?" Darden asked.

He shrugged. "Why does the Republic do anything? The head doesn't know what the feet are doing, the hands don't even know they have fingers, let alone where they are. My opinion: they probably performed their independent investigation and figured it wasn't your fault. Anyways, you should be glad I decided to overlook the fact you escaped arrest."

Darden frowned. "I wasn't under arrest when I left," she argued. "Just under orders not to leave the station. Grounded; not arrested. But the assassins had already started rolling in. I didn't fancy waiting for more." She shook her head. It didn't matter. "Anyway, I'm back now," she said. "I found you some fuel."

Lieutenant Grenn turned from the console he had been industriously studying. His entire careworn face brightened. "Really? That's great news! The situation here hasn't improved at all. What have you discovered?"

"Vogga the Hutt's recently had a backup in his fuel trade," Darden said. "He's looking for new markets."

He took it about as well as she'd expected. His face reddened, then went white. His hands clenched. "Vogga the Hutt…that's preposterous! What makes you think we'd be willing to do that?"

Darden held her ground. "He needs a market, and you need fuel desperately," she said quietly. "It can at least be a temporary solution until _you_ find something better."

Grenn sighed, and deflated a little. "You're right about that, and our bargaining position is weak because of it. Vogga will demand a high price, I'm sure."

Darden was rummaging in her pack. She drew out the datapad Vogga had given her, smiling. "You might be surprised. Here's his message."

Lieutenant Grenn took the datapad. He looked it over, then looked back up at Darden in disbelief. "How did you get him to…never mind. I don't really want to know. I'll see this gets to the Telosian Council. We need fuel and we need it fast. I'll urge them to broker a deal with Vogga."

He walked over to the reception desk. "Now…I believe I gave you my word that there would be a reward for information leading to the establishment of a fuel source for Citadel Station," he said, reaching into the drawer for credits. He laughed a little. "Never believed for a moment that you'd actually be collecting it, but I'm a man of my word, so here you are." He thrust what looked like a couple thousand credits towards Darden. "Take it. I've got to send this information to the Council right away."

Atton moved to take the credits, but Darden shook her head. "I didn't do it for the money, Lieutenant. Keep the reward. Though if you could send a message to the docking bay, we could use fuel for our ship, instead." It was a loss of about fifteen hundred credits, and they both knew it.

Grenn stared. Atton sighed. But Mira smiled, and nodded approvingly. "You made the trip out here just for that?" he asked.

"I promised I'd get you fuel," Darden said. "I keep my word, too. And I pay my debts. Keep the money, Lieutenant. The TSF needs it more than we do." She turned to go, and threw back over her shoulder, "Hire some better security."

Grenn swore at her, then he laughed, and waved them off. And by the time Darden, Atton, and Mira had returned to the docking bay, the fuel line was already in the _Hawk_'s tank. Mira looked at the _Ebon Hawk_ ruefully. "To Dantooine, right? How far is it?"

"About twice as far as Dxun, if you count it by distance," Atton said. "But you can't, really, because the rotation of the galaxy makes it harder to—"he trailed off, looking at Mira's blank stare and Darden's wry smile. "We're in for a long, boring ride," he mended. "Won't know how long until I coordinate with the utility droid, but I'm guessing three weeks. Maybe more."

Mira swore in Mandalorian. Then she smiled bravely. "Well. Let's get to it."

Darden clapped her on the shoulder, and boarded the _Ebon Hawk_.

* * *

HALFWAY TO DANTOOINE

The Handmaiden and Mira had partnered for lightsaber combat. Both had only just finished their lightsabers.

Mira's had been modified from one of Bao-Dur's practice sabers. She had worked on it every morning for the past two weeks until the violet beam vibrated with the exact frequency she wanted. As of yet, no supplementary crystals had been added. They had been on the ship constantly and she hadn't come in the way of any. But the grip was perfectly molded for her, and Mira knew her way around a workbench. The lens, emitter, and power cell were all to her complete satisfaction, built with a subtlety and a flair that Mira felt expressed who she was as a person, and who she wanted to be as a Jedi.

The Handmaiden had modified the double-bladed lightsaber Queen Talia had given Darden from the Onderon Royal Museum. It turned out that the Jedi robes she wore, the ones that had belonged to her mother, had a pocket, and that pocket contained a crystal. The Handmaiden switched the red crystal in the Sith saber for her mother's. She was not as accomplished at the workbench as Mira, but she, too, had worked to personalize her saber. When she had finished, it activated silvery blue. The crystal was of the same type that Darden had chosen for her own lightsaber as a girl, the same type that still powered the lightsaber that Atris carried. Darden and the Handmaiden both felt there was significance in her choice.

The Handmaiden and Mira sparred now, haltingly, testing the forms Darden had been teaching them with lightsabers for the first time. Darden corrected them. A glance, a touch, was usually all it took to set the Handmaiden right when she erred. Mira took a little more explanation. She was accustomed to ranged fighting. The lightsaber was her first melee weapon. She was making more progress with the use of the Force, especially as related to sensing, finding, and incapacitating a hidden opponent.

After a while, Darden left them to it, and turned to her other students. Now that there were an even number of Force users (minus Kreia) on board, lightsaber combat was usually done in pairs, after a group lesson that was mostly drill and dance. Darden rotated every night, now aiding one student, now another. Tonight she sparred with Atton.

Atton had made good progress since he'd first started with the lightsaber. After his experiences on Dxun, he was more comfortable fighting aggressively. He didn't hold back so much. He was not as fast as Visas, nor as strong as Bao-Dur, but he brought a creativity to combat that could outstrip either of them. Actually, Darden's biggest trouble since Dxun was getting him to stick to Jedi forms. He had a tendency to bring in movements from the Echani traditions, or even street-fighting. In a real battle Darden knew this would give him the advantage, but she also knew that sometimes Atton used his knowledge of other forms to slack off on the Jedi ones, so while she encouraged Bao-Dur, Visas, the Handmaiden, and Mira to learn from his spontaneity, she was starting to restrict Atton himself.

"Keep your stance wider, Rand," she cried. "Arms higher. Don't lift your blade above your head."

She thrust, parried. He blocked, and fell into rhythm. Darden traced his movements. _Step through Shii-Cho, widen to Makashi, forward into Ataru_… He pressed her back.

Darden grinned, and upped her defense. Her arms began to ache with the effort of blocking his blows. She moved faster, and so did he. She could feel his mind trained upon her, her movements. Of all her apprentices, the Handmaiden had the best access to her motions, Mira had the best access to her emotions, but Atton had the best access to her mind. Visas could _see_ where she would move. Bao-Dur would remember, the Handmaiden would feel, and Mira would foretell. But Atton would _know_, because he knew _her_.

There was a question in his mind tonight. It had been growing, the last three weeks. Ever since he had kissed her the day after Dxun. How did she feel? Was she still afraid, and did she know why, now? Was she just going to let it lie, or was she going to respond?

Darden couldn't answer the questions that raged in his head and through his body. He was different than anyone she'd ever met. She felt differently about him than she'd felt for anyone before, anyway. He was under her skin and in her head, and by now she was fairly certain he loved her. She also thought that he was as afraid of the implications of that as she was. And she knew she was a Jedi, she was his teacher, first. In the middle of all that was going on, with the crew and the Sith and the uncertainty that washed around them like a sea, were his appetites, his desires relevant? Were hers, even?

She fought back still more fiercely, and now, she took a leaf from Visas' book. She struck out at him with the Force, knocking him back. "Always be prepared!" she cried.

He extended his hand, then, and a wave of the Force rippled out from him. Darden jumped, and so avoided being knocked off her feet. Canderous, standing in the doorway, wasn't so lucky. Atton ran at Darden, and she met him, locking blades just before realizing that wasn't a good idea. Indeed, he brought his superior height and strength to bear, forcing her back, down, to her knees. Lashing out with an Echani kick beneath the blades Darden did not catch Atton by surprise, but he did jump back, taking his saber with him. Darden sprang to her feet and leveled her saber at him.

He broke out laughing, and deactivated his, holding his hands up. "Cheater," he chided. "What about the 'purity of the forms', huh?"

There was silence in the room. Darden looked around, surprised to see that the others had stopped their practice to watch her and Atton. The Handmaiden had an odd expression on her face.

"Excuse me," she said, and walked quickly away.

Canderous had climbed to his feet. "Are you all right?" Atton asked, turning to him. "Sorry I—"

"I'm all right," Canderous said, cutting him off. "You're not, Rand." He walked away, too.

Bao-Dur looked from Darden to Atton. "Tell you what: I _do_ think so," he told Atton cryptically. Atton seemed to understand him, though. Atton's eyes found Darden's, and they were so intense she looked away. Bao-Dur clapped Atton on the back, then turned aside to the corner, to the last bit of hull work in the room, picked up his torch, and started working, determinedly ignoring the rest of them.

"So are lessons over, then?" Darden asked, shifting.

"I suppose they are," Visas said, sounding slightly bemused. "I must confess I do not understand what has happened here."

Mira snorted. She patted Visas' veil condescendingly, then turned to Darden. "Take _care_ of it," she advised. "I got some Bothan Stunners and stun cuffs in the storage compartment if you want 'em. You _sure_ you know what goes where?"

She walked off without waiting for an answer. Visas followed her. Darden flushed hot. The Handmaiden had probably seen it first and understood most clearly. But all the crew save Visas had just seen Atton and Darden sparring and interpreted what it meant. She'd given them those senses. It really wasn't a huge surprise that they'd come around and bitten her in the butt. Atton didn't care. He was still staring at her, waiting. She shifted, and didn't look at him. "Maybe…uh…maybe we shouldn't spar anymore."

She ran. She heard Atton swear and kick the workbench behind her.

And the Handmaiden didn't talk to either of them for three days.

* * *

DANTOOINE

Atton was avoiding her now. He showed up to lessons late and left earliest, and if Darden went to the cockpit he usually 'had something to do, sweetheart'. Darden really didn't blame him, and thought it was probably for the best. That didn't mean his behavior didn't hurt, or that she didn't defiantly and passionately wish sometimes that nothing had changed and she'd allowed her emotion to overpower her brain for once.

She'd been unsurprised, but depressed to see that the breach between them had had further repercussions on the crew. Kreia was harsher than ever in their lessons. The Handmaiden, after her initial withdrawal, seemed saddened by what had taken place. She spent more time with Darden than ever, but she was also kinder to Atton than she had ever been previously. Mandalore watched them closely. Bao-Dur and Visas had both become almost silent. Mira grew louder at first, trying to force normality, jibing at both Atton and Darden in mimicry of the banter the three of them had once participated in together as the more informal Jedi aboard with actual senses of humor. Atton and Darden both ignored her. Then she turned her energy to an almost intimidating focus on her studies, and Darden was relieved.

Everyone was relieved when they landed on Dantooine at last. Darden called a meeting, and at it, she said simply, "Don't go anywhere alone."

She hesitated, then said, "Bao-Dur? Visas?"

The two of them nodded, grabbed their packs and weapons, and came after her.

Darden left the _Ebon Hawk_. Atton had landed them in what seemed to be a very makeshift, recently built port. It looked no more than three years old, and there was still a ramshackle, disorganized quality about the mechanic grumbling over the machinery to the right, and abandoned heaps of supplies lying here and there without rhyme or reason around the landing pad. It was very different from the neat, welcoming little port they'd had attached to the Jedi Enclave, once upon a time. Darden swallowed. It was a terrible feeling to come home, or at least, to one of her homes, at last and find it was not home anymore.

What seemed to be the port authority looked up from her clipboard. She caught sight of Darden and her companions, and caught sight of their lightsabers. She scowled.

"You'll find little welcome here, Jedi," she said in a hard, cold voice. "For your own good, I recommend you speak to Administrator Adare, quickly finish your business in Khoonda, and go!"

Darden blinked. "Whoa, whoa!" she said. "Could you please answer some questions about this place before you send me packing?"

The woman, a young woman perhaps Mira's age, softened just a bit. "I will answer your questions," she agreed.

"Thank you," Darden said, reading the woman's nametag, "Dillan. First, who am I supposed to see? Who's this Administrator Adare?"

"She was the Agricultural Administrator for Dantooine," Dillan said. "After the Sith attack, she kept us together. Without her, the only thing you'd see around here would be mercenaries."

Darden frowned. "Why so many?"

Dillan shrugged. "We had problems with Mandalorian mercenaries even before the Jedi Civil War. The Jedi helped clear most of the problem up. But after the war, many soldiers from both side of the conflict became mercenaries. And since we're so far from the Core, some started gathering here."

Darden nodded thoughtfully. "I see. Have they caused any problems?"

Dillan had relaxed into speaking with her. Most people liked to complain, even if they didn't like the person they were talking to. "The difference between an out of work mercenary and a raider is a vibroblade's edge," she said. "But the only thing we can prove they've done is intimidate a few farmers. The farmers give them goods, money, or food just to stay on their good side. The only one that isn't scared of them is the Administrator. But there have been a lot of disappearances lately. Not all of them can be blamed on kath hounds. But nobody can prove the mercenaries are responsible."

Her voice was skeptical, like _she_ knew, even though she couldn't prove it. "Who's disappeared?" Darden asked her.

"A farmer here and there, or a family," Dillan told her. "We lost enough people during the war that keeping the kath hound and kinrath populations under control hasn't been possible. So there are a lot of animal attacks. Some deaths, too. The disappearances might just be coincidence. But a lot of the stubborn folks here seem more accident prone."

Darden nodded grimly. No. This wasn't what she'd wanted to find when she landed again on Dantooine. "Okay. You wanted me to go to Khoonda. What is it?"

Dillan pointed. "Khoonda is the big building just outside the landing port. It used to be the estate of a man named Matale, but he and his family disappeared around the time of the bombardment."

Darden closed her eyes. She'd used to play with a little kid on the Matale estate. Ahlan Matale had been an unpleasant customer, but he'd been pleased to see his tiny son playing with a Jedi Padawan, especially one with a Master so famous as Kavar.

Dillan continued, however. "The Administrator rebuilt it and now this is our center of government."

Darden had followed her to the edge of the landing port. She looked out at the rebuilt mansion. It was simple. Good for a house, but undeniably compact for a planetary governmental building. And looking left and right, it didn't seem like there was anything else for miles. "_This_ is?" Darden said.

Dillan straightened, annoyed. "I know it doesn't look like much, but there aren't many settlers that live on this planet. This building is the start of something new for us. We're very proud of it. Head into the building and you'll find your way to the Administrator. I'll be over by the entrance if you need anything else."

Darden hesitated. The mechanic was looking darkly out at them from underneath beetled brows. She swung off her pack, stowed her lightsaber in it, and drew out her blaster, instead. Then she accessed the comm. Atton picked up.

"Yeah?"

"Don't bring your lightsabers outside," she said. "Or hide them, if you do. I've got a feeling they don't like Jedi here."

"This world was pretty much crushed five years ago because of the Jedi," Atton said. "What did you expect?" The comm crackled out.

Darden sighed. But behind her, Bao-Dur and Visas had concealed their weapons.

The three of them marched into Khoonda. Darden knew at once she had been right to hide the lightsabers. Two women were talking, loudly, about a rumor of Jedi on Dantooine, and the bounty on them. They weren't bounty hunters, but they wanted to collect, because they wanted the damn Jedi off their planet. How had they dared to come here, they wondered, after what the Jedi had done to Dantooine?

Darden swallowed. "It was the Sith, wasn't it?" she asked them. "The Sith that attacked Dantooine, not the Jedi?"

The women sniffed. "What are you, some idiot salvager?" one asked. "Sith are just Jedi in black robes. They just kill people directly, instead of letting them die." She turned away pointedly back to her friend.

Darden felt like she had been slapped. She made her way through Khoonda. The building was full of hope, but it was also full of tension. Khoonda felt like a new start, but Darden sensed that all the dangers that accompanied such a new start were present here.

Dillan had told the truth. She found the Administrator right away, and it was rural enough on Dantooine that she could just walk right in.

Adare was sitting at her desk, dressed in plain, utilitarian clothes that suited a former agricultural administrator better than the leader of an entire colony. Two pins had been thrust carelessly through her graying dark hair. Her face was pale and worn, and ornamented only with some sort of tribal tattoo on the forehead, probably from her homeworld, many years ago.

She looked up and saw Darden, Visas, and Bao-Dur in the doorway. "Visitors?" she said in a low, sweet voice. "Please, come in. Welcome to Khoonda. I am Administrator Terena Adare." She gestured at three chairs before her desk. Darden and her friends sat down. The Administrator looked from one to the other of them, then picked out Darden as the leader. "You're the owner of the…um…ship…that just landed?"

Darden bristled. "Don't knock it, if you please. It's one of the fastest in the galaxy, and it's certainly been good to me."

Terena Adare smiled gently. "I meant no disrespect at all," she said. "It is in fact a remarkable vessel. And unless I'm much mistaken, that's the _Ebon Hawk_. That vessel has been on Dantooine before, during the war. That was a Jedi vessel.'

Darden raised an eyebrow, impressed. "It was Revan's vessel, which is an entirely different thing," she said.

Adare inclined her head in acknowledgment of the distinction.

"Whatever you know about it, I'd appreciate it if you kept quiet," Darden said in a low voice, conscious of the open door. "I've been here all of five minutes and I'm getting the impression it's a bad idea to be a Jedi here, or related to them in any way."

Adare sighed. "That is an unfortunate truth," she said. "And a wise request, which of course I will honor. Most settlers here hold bitter memories of the Sith occupation. Right or wrong, our settlers blame the Jedi and their hidden Enclave for their suffering." She steepled her fingers on her desk, thoughtful. "I remember the old Jedi Masters and the considerable help they lent to Dantooine. I still maintain…discreet…connections with the Jedi. I suppose your arrival here is no coincidence."

Darden leaned forward. "Have you seen them? The others?" she demanded.

The Administrator looked surprised. "Others? No," she said mildly. "I was speaking of one friend in particular. Let's just call him Vrook. We've known each other for many years. And our continued friendship could create many problems in the current political climate. He came back to Dantooine not too long ago. He was looking for something quite important. He's gone missing recently. Did he send for you in case something went wrong?"

Darden almost laughed, but didn't. "No," she said. "He wouldn't send for _me_. But something has obviously gone wrong. I'm here to find him, but I would have thought there would be others by now. Have you seen them? Long haired guy with earrings called Zez-Kai Ell? Tall man named Kavar?"

"I regret to say I have seen nothing of these men," Adare replied. She looked at Darden carefully. "Though…I recall there _was_ a Kavar here, once, many years ago. In the Enclave, long before both wars. He was very helpful to the people of Dantooine. You look very like his young apprentice, you know, a girl that always seemed to cause trouble for my friend Vrook. She went away…" Her eyes narrowed, then went wide. She seized Darden's hand across the table. "Tell _no one_ here who you are," she said urgently. "The government is not strong enough yet to protect you, should the people discover your identity just now."

Darden looked at her, nodded. Adare released her hand.

"Okay," Darden said, keeping her voice lower than ever. "You haven't seen the others. You have seen Vrook. What's happened to him, then?"

Adare had paled upon her realization of Darden's identity. She regained her composure rapidly, though. "We had a mutually beneficial arrangement for several weeks," she said. "He went to the Jedi Enclave's sublevel recently, and hasn't returned. I know the sublevel is dangerous. I'm starting to fear the worst."

Darden thought of all the time she'd been traveling, from Dxun to Telos, and then all the way back across the galaxy to Dantooine. Kavar should have arrived by now. _Surely_ Zez-Kai Ell. And now Vrook had gone missing. "Yeah," she said. "So am I."

* * *

**Coming (eventually): Tensions are high on Dantooine as everyone tries to rebuild and make a life for themselves, but in different ways. And the Jedi Masters are missing. Unable to find Kavar and Zez-Kai Ell, Darden must settle for looking for Vrook. But to do that, she must wade into the thick of things. The man she finds first is not the man she's looking for, though Mical has been looking for her for a long, long time. **

**Keep reading! I'll keep writing! Leave a review at the door, if you like.**

**May the Force be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	26. Those Left Behind

**Disclaimer: Mical isn't mine, either. Kinda glad he isn't.**

* * *

XXV.

Those Left Behind

"I'm starting to fear the worst."

"Yeah. So am I."

Administrator Terena Adare held her gaze pleadingly. "Would you be willing to go to the ruins of the Enclave to look for Vrook?" she asked, keeping her voice low.

Darden smiled grimly. "Willing? You couldn't stop me, Administrator."

"We are fortunate that you have come," the Administrator said. "Don't expect it to be easy, though. Things rarely are with Jedi. I will have one of the militia transmit permissions to the Enclave's security door. Go expecting danger, for you will most certainly find it there."

Darden laughed without mirth. "I can find the danger anywhere," she said. "Right. Well. If I'm going to be rooting around here on Dantooine I need to know how things are these days. First of all: will I have to stay incongnito the _entire _time? I mean, I know I shouldn't go shouting my name at the top of my lungs or anything, but I'd rather take out the kinrath and kath hounds with my lightsaber, if I have any choice."

She looked sideways at Bao-Dur and Visas as she spoke. Bao-Dur was more than competent with a vibroblade or a blaster, but Darden honestly had no idea if Visas had any skill at all with either. Adare caught her glances. Her emotions swirled. Rising confidence: she thought that if more than one Jedi had come to her aid, the chances of Vrook's location were higher. Worry for the political situation. Sympathy. Sorrow. She addressed the three of them when she spoke next. "Try and understand: to most people in the galaxy, the distinction between Sith and Jedi is a blurry one. Especially since most Sith were once Jedi. It is complicated by the fact that Malak and Revan were great heroes of the Republic and famed Jedi Knights. But a few years later they were leading an armada which threatened everyone."

She took a breath, and her eyes darkened. "Here on Dantooine, the Jedi Enclave provoked a brutal occupation by the Sith," she told them. "It could've been far worse, but even now the damage has not been fully mended."

Bao-Dur shifted in his chair. "Bad reputations can be mended," he offered. "It's like a shorted out circuit. All you have to do is reconnect the right wires. Could we do anything to help?"

The Administrator raised a brow at him, but she nodded. "I do not think that everyone hates Jedi," she said. "If just a few people changed their minds or spoke up, it could make a great deal of difference. I think that we need the help of the Jedi. If the Jedi's reputation isn't redeemed, the consequences could be quite regrettable. Until then, I would keep your identity a secret."

Darden sighed. "Fine. Tell me about the lay of the land these days. Who are the people here?"

Adare explained how there were three groups of inhabitants on Dantooine, only one of which answered directly to her. The settlers were farmers, for the most part, and there were far fewer of them since the Sith occupation. There were mercenaries, former soldiers from both sides of both wars that had gathered to Dantooine in search of work. But work was hard to come by. The hired guns were restless, and under the leadership of one Azkul, a former Sith soldier of some standing, they had been causing problems for farmers lately, as Dillan had said, though never enough that Adare or the captain of the militia, Zherron, could prove anything against them. The third group of people on Dantooine right now were salvagers, enterprising sentients that Adare had decided after some deliberation to allow to search the ruins of the Jedi Enclave for valuable artifacts. These salvagers were obliged to pay a fee for the privilege of searching the ruins, and another tax for anything of value they removed. Khoonda was using the proceeds to help rebuild. For a while, the salvagers had prospered. But now the ruins were drying up, and the salvagers were starting to leave.

Adare feared for the future of the colony. "We need the Republic and we always have," she told Darden. "We aren't self-sufficient yet and we need aid. The fate of the Telos project is intimately tied to our own. The most humanitarian elements of the Senate have put their careers at stake in the rebuilding of Telos. If those efforts succeed, their prominence will grow and further aid will be given freely. But if they fail there are colder, more authoritative elements in the Senate that could come to power. They would think nothing of leaving the strategically unimportant worlds to their own devices. That would be a tragic day for Dantooine and many other worlds. The Republic is in flux; its final shape is uncertain."

"Don't be so hard on Dantooine," Darden said. "I have a—well, not a friend—say an—no, not an ally, either. A companion. He's made somewhat of an exhaustive study of the Republic, its resources, its economics. He says that Dantooine is vital to the Republic, a beacon on the Rim. If it makes it, then the Republic will expand and grow and thrive."

"Yes, but will we make it?" the Administrator asked quietly.

"If the General has anything to say about it, you will," Bao-Dur said. "We've done what we can for Telos, already. It's much more likely to succeed now than it was because of what she's done, ma'am."

"This is good news!" Adare said. "And you will help us, too?"

"First I'm going to find Vrook," Darden said. "But if I can do something for Dantooine while I'm here, then I will. You have my word. But I should go. Half the day's gone, and I want to hit the sublevel before dark."

She left the Administrator cordially. On her way out of Khoonda, she talked to a few of the other Dantooine inhabitants. The captain of the guard, Zherron, a taciturn man that nevertheless seemed incredibly efficient. His second-in-command, Berun, whom Darden discovered didn't hate the Jedi as much as many other settlers. She was able to convince him to speak up on behalf of the Jedi. There was a settler named Suulru that was having trouble with some thefts and wanted her to look into them, and a salvager named Geverick, a very unpleasant, rude man that insulted her ship as she headed out the door. She ignored him. Bao-Dur clenched his jaw.

"He's not worth it, Bao-Dur," Darden murmured. "Berun said he's trouble. Don't get into it. I know, and you know, that the _Ebon Hawk_ flies faster and better than any ship in the galaxy, mostly because of you and Teethree. That's enough."

"You're right, General," Bao-Dur said. "Thank you. I'll try to control myself in the future."

Darden led them out onto the plains, and started heading towards where she remembered the Enclave had been. "You did control yourself," she told him. "You didn't attack him, or answer back. You've been doing much better. I've seen it in actions and combat, both. Your anger doesn't control you any longer in battle, and you aren't a liability, but an asset."

"It's thanks to you I'm doing better, General," Bao-Dur said.

"We both are," Visas added, "All your pupils grow stronger, better. We are more at peace the longer we travel at your side, and more connected to you. Yet...you grow weary. You give more than you can spare, Darden. And though for the most part you remain strong, at times we…at times _I _wonder, if you possess the peace you impart. These last two weeks—"

Bao-Dur made a small noise, and she stopped.

Darden sighed. "I don't give more than I can spare, Visas," she said. "You worry that I weaken myself by making all of you stronger. But if you think about it, so long as you stand beside me, your strength is my strength, is it not? I am so proud of your growing peace, your growing enjoyment of life. And Bao-Dur, your growing mastery over your anger, your increased connectivity with others. Your every victory is mine, too."

"And yet you are angry, sorrowful, at times," Visas said, still more hesitantly. "I do not know what it is…"

"What anger and sorrow I feel does not control me," Darden said, bitterly. "I master myself. I wait. I act in accordance with reason, with what is permitted to me, considering who I am, and where I stand. Don't worry about me, Visas."

"We all do, General," Bao-Dur said gently. He was silent a moment, then he said. "I don't think you remember that you're more than a veteran and a Jedi and a teacher, sometimes. You have more functionality than that, and until you act upon all of it, I don't think you'll be all that you can be."

Darden looked sharply at him. Indirectly as he spoke, she knew he was referring to the tension with Atton. "I don't want to talk about _that_," she said. "You've done an excellent job of staying out of things so far. Please. Just keep to that."

"Very well, General," Bao-Dur said, unoffended. They all lapsed into silence. Darden looked over the deserted plains, the tall, golden grass swaying in the desolate wind. Iriaz flew overhead lazily. Small, stubby trees stood lonely here and there, and kath hounds curled up in their shade. It was summer on this part of the planet. A beautiful one. But there was a heat and anger about it Darden had never known before. The air tingled with fear, anger. Loss. Hope, too, but with an edge of desperation.

It made Darden want to cry. A kath hound looked up then, caught sight of them, and belled a warning to its pack mates. They ran at Darden, three or four of the enormous, red-maned canines. She shot two dead. Visas and Bao-Dur had drawn their concealed lightsabers. On the open plain, who was going to see? They cut down the others.

The three of them journeyed on. They passed through a small white canyon, and in the distance, saw smoke from a camp billowing up. Darden drew more closely to it, and saw heavily armed men, her age and older, sitting around in weathered tents. She realized that it must be the merc camp.

She was surprised to recognize Canderous and Mira coming from the opposite direction. The two hailed her and joined up with her.

"Canderous was showing me around this place," Mira told Darden as they drew level. "Seriously, what is with this planet? Where are all the people? All this space…it's _creepy_."

Darden rolled her eyes. She turned to greet Mandalore, but Canderous had gone ahead.

A group of maybe half a dozen armored Mandalorians had set up their tent a ways away from the other mercs. Their camp was neater, better maintained than the others. The tattered remnants of a clan banner hung outside it.

The Mandalorian tending the fire looked up to regard the visitors. He caught sight of Mandalore, and more importantly, Mandalore's helmet. He stood slowly. "Look who's walked into our camp, boys!" he drawled mockingly. "Mandalore himself has come to visit us."

The Mandalorians behind the first muttered, shifting in confusion. Canderous held himself proudly, though, unflinching. "I am the new Mandalore," he declared. "I have reclaimed Mandalore's helmet, lost after our defeat at Revan's hands. Assemble the rest of your clan. You will return to Dxun. We must fight a new war: a war that will return us to glory."

The Mandalorian in front made a rude gesture. The Mandalorians behind him moved back, distancing themselves from the first. "And if I take that helmet from you," the first said, "guess that makes me the new Mandalore? I've always wanted to be called that." He snorted. "I know all about your exploits, 'Mandalore'. We have fallen far in the past years, but I will not stand idly while an usurper claims to be my leader."

Mandalore squared his stance and drew a vibrosword from a sheath on his back. "It is unfortunate that you feel that way. Perhaps I'll be able to change your mind."

Mira's hand went to the inside of her jacket, but Darden grabbed her arm.

"Don't," she said. "This is Mandalore's fight, and these are his people. We stay out."

Mira nodded, though her body was tense. Darden, Mira, Visas, Bao-Dur, the Mandalorians, and the entire mercenary camp now emerging silently from their tents, watched Mandalore and the challenger circling one another.

The challenger was even taller and broader than Canderous, and he sounded and moved like he was at least ten years younger. He'd drawn a vibrosword, too, and now he struck first. Canderous had been waiting for him. He moved incredibly fast. Darden had only ever seen him use an enormous blaster rifle in combat. Now she realized he was an expert melee fighter, too. He blocked his opponent's stroke and immediately sliced back with a brutal stroke of his own, directly at a weak place in his opponent's armor. The Mandalorian dissident leaped back a split second before the blow fell. When he came towards Canderous again, he moved more cautiously.

"He underestimated him," Darden heard a merc behind her say. "Who are these people, anyway?"

"I don't care," another one said. "If 'Mandalore' wants to take away the competition, so much the better, if you ask me."

Someone spat in agreement. But overall there was only silence as Canderous blocked another stroke and kicked out, connecting solidly with the gut of his opponent and moving him back, throwing him off balance enough so that his next slice up under the arm sliced unchecked. Darden raised her eyebrows, impressed, as Canderous actually dug up under the plating, gouged the arm, and had the strength to pry some of the plating off. Blood spurted. Armor shrieked. The Mandalorian cried aloud. Mira's jaw was tight. Bao-Dur's fists were clenched. Darden put a hand on his shoulder.

"He's not hurting anyone you'd want to protect," she said quietly.

The Mandalorian was still fighting. He was stronger than quite a bad arm wound. He was bleeding freely, but he kept coming. He swung wildly at Canderous. Canderous merely sidestepped, and leveled another blow at the weakness on the neck. The challenger's helmeted head fell from his armored shoulders. The body stood for half a second, then fell to the ground. There was silence in the camp. The challenger hadn't had a chance, and everyone knew it.

Mandalore stepped over the body. "Any other takers?" he asked the other Mandalorians, bloody vibrosword still drawn.

None of them looked down at the body. They knelt. "No, Mandalore. We will follow you."

"Good," Canderous said. Now he did look down at the body. He sounded almost sad when he said, "I have no desire to spill any more Mandalorian blood today. Gather your clan and return to Dxun. You have seen the last of your mercenary days."

"Yes, Mandalore," they said.

Darden sighed. Canderous sat down on a nearby rock and began cleaning his sword. She went up to him, and clapped his shoulder. "I'm going to the Enclave," she said. "Coming with me?"

"No," he said. "I'll go back to the _Ebon Hawk_. Or just…" he trailed off. "I knew that Enclave well. Six weeks we stayed there, while they trained her like she'd never been a Jedi before."

Visas stepped forward. "I shall accompany you," she said softly. She bowed to Darden. Darden nodded.

"I won't, if you don't mind," Mira put in. She looked to the east, and frowned. "I can feel this…Darkness, this loss…I can't explain it, exactly."

"You feel that there should be an Enclave here, but there isn't," Darden said, "And you hear the echoes of the screams of the Jedi that died." She kept her voice low, so none of the mercs around could hear.

Mira looked at her. "This was home?"

"Yeah, for a while," Darden said. "Well. Come on, Mira, Bao-Dur. See you back at the ship this evening, guys."

She stood, and Mandalore waved them off. Darden led Bao-Dur and Mira east. It was the laziest part of the afternoon by now, and the kath hounds were lazing underneath Dantooine's stubby trees. For the most part, Darden was able to avoid them. Sometimes, they attacked. Then the three of them fought.

They followed the curvature of the hills around to where they opened up, and a creek ran across the plain. But before the creek, there was another camp. This one was smaller, shabbier. The people around here were not as well armored as the mercenaries, and they were thinner. Some of them bickered over credits. Overall they were a dirty, shifty looking bunch.

"The salvagers," Darden told Mira. She briefly explained the situation on Dantooine, then said, "Like Nar Shaddaa. Keep an eye to your pack."

Mira sniffed. "A twelve year old kid from Nar Shaddaa could take these losers in five minutes."

But she hefted her pack up on her shoulder nonetheless. Darden walked around the camp. The salvagers were hostile when they found out she was headed for the ruins, particularly an old, weathered woman named Deraala. But they weren't violent. They still offered to sell her Jedi salvage at exorbitant prices. One man tried to trick her into buying a counterfeit holocron. Mira laughed at him. Overall the salvagers were a slimy, somewhat depressing group. They obviously weren't doing too well anymore. The salvage on the main level of the old Enclave had dried up, the sublevel was too dangerous for most of them, and surprisingly, they'd been hit by Suulru's thief, too.

Eventually Darden was able to extricate herself and her companions from the salvager camp. She made her way to the break in the hills, and looked towards where the Enclave she'd spent her youth in had been for the first time in fifteen years. She swallowed.

The bridge over the creek was still intact, but it was pretty much the only thing that was. The beautiful stone walls where she had slept, eaten, played, and learned were now hardly more than a pile of rubble. The stone of the courtyard was cracked and pitted, and the trees were blackened and blighted. She swallowed. Mira put a hand to her shoulder.

"Dar, I…"

Bao-Dur stood next to her, solid, unafraid. "It's been this way a long time, General," he said. "You have a new home now, and you have a new job."

Darden's eyes stung. She blinked. It wasn't just her past, wasn't just the sight of the ruin that got her. She could feel the distress the earth had felt when the fire had rained down from the Sith ships. She could hear the echoes of the screams that had rung out that day. The Force still wept, here, and the void still gaped.

_"Do you feel it?" _Kreia said in the back of her mind. _"The wound on this world is centered here. If we succeed in gathering the Jedi, they will be drawn to this place. And if those Jedi are slain, then all that remains of the Order shall be drawn here as well."_

Darden felt a rush of anger at Kreia's presence in this place in this moment, but she didn't dismiss what her teacher said. _"_Are_ there more? Kreia-?" _

_ "Perhaps, in the shadows of the galaxy," _Kreia thought at her, unconcerned, though heretofore they'd all been operating under the assumption that Darden and the Jedi Masters who had exiled her from the Jedi were all that remained of the Order. _"We will know when the time comes, and I hope our enemies do not." _She retreated from Darden's mind.

"General?" Bao-Dur asked, curious as to why they were lingering. She shook her head.

"Let's go."

She led Mira and Bao-Dur across the bridge and to the right along the broken path, now sprouting grass like to that which grew on the plains. The sublevel door was still intact. A group of harried-looking salvagers was just emerging from it. The leader, a dark-haired young woman in black armor, was doing a head count.

She swore vividly, yelling something about Jorran being the one with the backpack. Then she caught sight of Darden and her companions. Her lined blue eyes narrowed. She squared her shoulders and led her company past, gripping her blaster rifle with tight white fingers.

"They left their squad-mate down there?" Mira asked, watching the salvagers go. "That's just…"

"If he's still alive, we'll help him," Darden told her.

She shook her head and muttered something. "Come on."

A camera over the door to the Enclave sublevel focused on Darden and her companions as she came close. A red light on it flashed green, and the door opened.

"Thank you, Administrator," Darden murmured.

They walked into the Enclave sublevel.

The sublevel had hardly been touched. Darden looked around. There were some cracks in the walls and ceiling that showed the stress the building had undergone. She could hear creaking and crumbling. But the halls were halls, still. They were just…so quiet. So dark. Except for a scuttling that sounded more bestial than human.

"What…?" Mira said.

"They'll be laigreks," Darden said grimly. "Or kinrath. Either way, very nasty. Come on."

She led Bao-Dur and Mira north first, to the dorms where the Enclave historians had lived. Dorak, and his apprentices. That was when the first laigrek attacked.

Laigreks were long, vicious creatures of the insect variety, with shiny black exoskeletons, many-jointed bodies that they either kept low to the ground or could rear back to 'stand', and three pair of strong, many-jointed legs with sharp claws. They had clicking, hungry beaks and bulbous, many-faceted red eyes that could see into the darkest corners of the underground places they liked to live in. They were aggressive, voracious, and highly adaptable. They lived in colonies of as few as six, or as many as fifty, and lived, learned, and attacked together. And worst of all, they were usually highly resistant to the Force.

So when the first laigrek attacked, its five friends weren't far behind. "Aim for the eyes," Darden cried, "Or the joints of the legs. And…forget it!"

She kicked out at a laigrek, gritting her teeth as it dug its sharp little claws into her calf, and struggled with her pack. She put her blaster back in the top of it, and drew out her lightsaber. She activated it, and cut the laigrek down. The others scuttled back, catching sight of the bright, burning blade. Bao-Dur took advantage of the brief respite to sheath his vibroblade and pull out his lightsaber, too. The two of them pressed forward as Mira shot out the eyes of the laigreks. They hissed and screeched high-pitched cries. Then they were all dead.

Mira looked at them with distaste. Then she looked at Darden and Bao-Dur's lightsabers. With some reluctance, she switched out her own blaster for her lightsaber. "Guess I do need the practice," she muttered. "Ugly little things, aren't they? The laigreks, not the lightsabers."

"Yeah," Darden said, wincing. She knelt and looked at her calf. The laigrek had torn through pants, skin, and muscle alike, and the wound was bleeding freely. She put her hands on either side of it, stretched out with the Force, and healed herself.

Mira and Bao-Dur were silent as she did so. Bao-Dur helped her up afterwards, and handed her his canteen to wash her hands with.

"You alright?" Mira asked.

Just then a cry of grief rang out behind them. Darden whirled. A figure in the opening of the corridor had caught sight of the scene. The figure tore past them right into the middle of them and threw herself down amongst the corpses of the laigreks.

"My laigreks!" she cried, looking up with anguished eyes at the three of them. "You've killed them! They're my pets!"

Mira laughed. "Your pets? You're joking, right?"

Darden looked down at this weird little intruder. It was a human girl, maybe fifteen years old. She was frighteningly thin and pale, in dirty, dusty, torn men's clothes far too big for her. Her blonde hair hung lank and matted around her shoulders. In it, was one knotted, snarled thin braid. Tears were in her wide gray eyes as she looked up at Mira.

"I…I don't think she is," Darden said.

"But these laigreks have been killing people," Mira said.

"They only attacked the bad people," the girl sobbed. "The salvagers, the thieves. This place is for Jedi. They aren't Jedi. They have to leave."

Darden knelt down in front of the girl. "Who are you?" she asked quietly. "What are you doing here?"

The girl stroked the shiny backs of the dead laigreks with shaking, thin white fingers. "My name is Kaevee," she said, as tears ran down her dirty cheeks. "I am a Padawan. And one day, one day I will learn enough to be a Jedi."

Both Bao-Dur's and Mira's faces fell. The two of them knelt down with Darden. "How did you get here?" Bao-Dur asked quietly.

"I was studying here when Darth Malak and the Sith came," Kaevee told them. She stopped petting the laigreks and instead stared off into space. "I was outside the Enclave, when my Master left me at the Matale estate. Shen protected me. But the Sith came asking questions." Her voice broke, grew frantic. "All the Matales died. But I hid. Even when the estate was burning, I hid."

Darden looked over at Mira, and Mira nodded, grave-eyed. The girl was half-mad from trauma and years of solitude here in the Enclave. Darden held out her arms then. "Come here, Kaevee," she said. Kaevee looked at her, then threw her dirty, emaciated little body into Darden's arms. Darden pressed her close, holding her as tightly as she could. The girl sobbed for the loss of her ugly, vicious pets, for the loss of the Enclave, for loneliness. Tears ran down Darden's face, too. "It's hard, isn't it?" she murmured. "It leaves wounds, the death, the loneliness. I was a Jedi, too, before the Wars."

Kaevee looked up at her. "You were?" she asked. "I—I had no idea. I'm sorry I told my laigreks to attack you. Aren't you a Jedi anymore? Aren't there any Jedi anywhere?"

Darden thought of lost Vrook, of Vash, yet to be found, and Kavar and Zez-Kai Ell, that should already have arrived. "I don't know," she said, very quietly. "I lost my connection to the Force. It's only recently started to come back. And I've only recently come back. I've been exiled for a long, long time."

"That's horrible," Kaevee said, starting to cry again. "What happened to your Master? Are there any Masters left to teach us?"

Bao-Dur and Mira both looked at Darden and smiled sadly, but Darden kept looking at Kaevee. "I don't know," she said. "I thought my Master would be here, but he's not. But I do know a man named Vrook was here."

Kaevee sat up then, and Darden let go of her. "I remember him," the girl told her. "I sent my laigreks to get him to leave, but he just made my pets…stop. I was going to talk to him, but then the mercenaries came for him. They never come down here. I was surprised, and hid. There was a big fight. They said they were ging to take him somewhere…I don't know…" she bit her lip and looked at Darden fearfully, as if afraid Darden was going to be angry with her for being unable to provide any more information.

"Where were they when this happened?" Darden asked, quite calmly.

"The other side of the Enclave, in the Archives," Kaevee said.

Well, Darden thought. At least he wasn't dead. She'd have to look around the Archives and see if the mercs had left any clues behind them. But for now...She looked at Kaevee, taking in her extreme thinness, and the men's clothes she wore. They looked like farmer's work clothes. "Kaevee," she said. "You've been taking things from the people around here, haven't you? The farmers and salvagers?"

Kaevee started to shake. "It's wrong, isn't it?" she said in a small voice. "I'll stop. I was just trying to get enough credits to eat. But I—I'll think of something else. Something that doesn't hurt anyone."

Mira looked sharply at Darden. "Dar…" she said quietly, gesturing at the girl.

Darden nodded in acknowledgment. She knew Kaevee wouldn't make it long without food and credits. She had eyes. "Why have you stayed here all this time?" she asked the girl. "You could have left. They've rebuilt the Matale mansion into a building named Khoonda. There are good people there. They could help you."

Mira relaxed. Bao-Dur smiled at the redhead. He hadn't been worried for a second that Darden would hurt this girl or leave her like she was. Kaevee shifted.

"I found a holocron," she answered Darden. "It said…terrible things. It told me the Jedi were no more, and I had to survive, do anything to protect my home. It was more and more forceful, the longer I listened. It frightened me," As she spoke to Darden her voice had grown more and more assured, stronger and more coherent. Darden felt that she wasn't quite lost, that perhaps there might be hope for this little, lonely Padawan that had survived, when all the others had not. She would have been a child when the Sith attacked, hardly more than a Youngling. "I threw it away," Kaevee told Darden. "I…I went back to find it. It was my only teacher. But the salvagers stole it."

"Don't go looking for it, Kaevee," Darden told her. "It was teaching you the wrong sorts of lessons. You need to move on, go find people again. You need to stop hiding."

Kaevee considered this. She looked back at her laigreks, then nodded. "You're right," she said. "I've been alone too long. I'll leave this place and try to find a master to teach me. There have to be some left. But I won't use the Force until I find one. So much has gone wrong. I think I need to unlearn the lessons I have learned."

Too right, Darden thought. Only a person in tune with the Dark Side could have tamed and bonded with laigreks. But Kaevee had acted out of ignorance and desperation, in the absence of any other guide than a Sith holocron.

Kaevee stood, and Darden and her companions stood, too. Darden opened her pack again, and drew out about 1000 credits. "Take these," she said, pressing them into the girl's hands. "They might help you, until you find work."

Mira had been rummaging in her pack, too. She brought out one of her only two changes of clothes, an old, faded combat suit, Mandalorian-made. "This, too," Mira said quietly. "It's not…it's not much, but it's certainly better than those ratty clothes _you're_ wearing. I was about your size, when I was your age."

Bao-Dur handed Kaevee all the food in his pack. "Eat it _all_," he said. "Buy some more with the credits."

Kaevee took the credits, the clothes, and the food, staring at them all. She had a small, tattered pack she placed them in dumbly. She gave a tiny hiccup, then burst out sobbing again and threw herself at Darden. Darden hugged her tightly once more, and then Mira hugged her. Bao-Dur patted her on the back awkwardly.

Kaevee collected herself. She was shaking, scared, but she was also smiling. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" she said.

"May the Force be with You," Darden said, bowing in the Jedi manner.

Kaevee's eyes brightened, and she returned the salute. "And also with you." She smiled a little wider. Then, with one last, shy glance, she darted away.

"Will she be okay?" Mira asked.

"You were, weren't you?" Darden replied. "We'll get you some more clothes in Khoonda tomorrow."

"Not unless we sell something, we won't," Mira retorted. "We are out of credits, Dar. You keep turning down all the rewards for the stuff we do. And that's okay. It's good. But we don't exactly have cash to buy clothes."

"Then we'll sell stuff," Darden said quietly.

Mira looked at her. She shrugged then. She looked towards the entrance. "I hope she's okay," she murmured.

Bao-Dur patted Mira on the shoulder, and the three of them started through the sublevel corridors towards the old Archives.

Kaevee's laigreks were not the only laigreks. In fact, the sublevel was infested with them. With lightsabers fighting them off wasn't as much of a challenge, though. Still, their hissing and screeching, and the dim, flickering lighting of the sublevel made for a depressing journey.

About half an hour after Kaevee had left Darden and her friends found the door to the Archives. Darden blinked. This room was different. Someone had done something to the lighting, and it was brighter. And sitting at a table over a datarecord was _someone._

For a moment, Darden and the young man just stared at one another. Darden deactivated her lightsaber, then, still humming after the latest laigrek fight, and Mira and Bao-Dur followed suit.

They young man rose from his chair and bowed in a courtly manner. He was about average heigt, neatly built, with well-formed, regular features, light blue eyes, and dark blonde hair that would have been much more attractive if it weren't slicked back in the manner of a soldier. He was maybe eight years her junior, two year's Mira's senior.

"Well," Darden said. "You're not a salvager. Or a merc. You're certainly not a laigrek. Who are you, then?"

"I confess myself surprised, as well," the young man said in a cultured baritone. "I had thought that the laigreks that trapped me here would keep anyone else out. I was beginning to fear my food would expire before I could devise some means of escape. But forgive me. I am an historian and scientist working for the Republic, although I am certain my contemporaries would judge me more a historian than scientist."

Darden frowned. "I didn't ask you what you are," Darden said. "I asked you who you are. What's your name?"

"Forgive me," the young man said again. "My name is Mical, gentle lady."

Mira snorted. "Gentle lady, my ass. You should see her late at night, sunshine."

Mical frowned at Mira's vulgarity, and waited politely for Darden's response to his name. Darden pressed her lips together, and wished very hard that she hadn't been carrying her lightsaber when she had walked into the room. "I'm…Darla Leovic," she said finally.

Mical smiled at her. "I am an historian working for the Republic," he repeated gently. "I have spent my life looking through Republic records. I understand why you would wish to conceal your name, especially upon this world, but I have seen your face in far too many holorecords not to know who you are."

"Uh…fine, then," Darden said, unnerved. She didn't often run into people who recognized her on sight, and when she did, they had never, ever been as calm and courteous about it as this man. "Sorry. This is Mira, that's Bao-Dur. What are you doing here, Mical? It's dangerous down here."

"Presumably the same thing you are," Mical replied easily. "I have been looking for some trace of the Jedi. I had heard mention that one of the Jedi Masters had come here, but I found no trace of him."

Darden walked past him. There, at the foot of the statue in the center of the Archives, three bodies lay. Darden looked back at Mical,and saw a Republic standard-issue blaster on each of his hips, but these men had been killed by lightsabers. There was a datapad on one of them. She picked it up and read it briefly.

It was an order from the leader of the mercs, that ex-Sith Azkul the Administrator had told her about, for the capture of Master Vrook. There was reference to the Nar Shaddaa bounty on it.

Darden frowned. Then she walked back across the Archive floor to Mical's table and put the datapad down on it.

"And you just happened not to see this?" she asked quietly. "I know the room is big and all, but three _corpses_ are kind of hard to ignore. Try again. Why are you down here?"

Mira turned her lightsaber over in her hand. "There you have it," she told Mical. "Not gentle in the least." She stayed still, waiting for the signal.

Mical held his hands up. "You are quite correct," he said. "I did not come merely for the Jedi Master." He looked at the closed door, and frowned. Quietly, he added, "At any rate, the mercenaries had been and gone by the time I arrived, and when the laigreks started swarming…it was foolish to enter here on my own. But I felt it necessary to come. Look around."

He gestured at the shelves and shelves of datarecords, all undisturbed here in the sublevel. "Much has been taken from the Enclave," he said. "Both by raiders, and…others. I felt I had to come here, protect what is left, and preserve what I could. More so than the loss of the Jedi themselves, I fear the loss of their history."

Darden sensed sincerity in Mical's voice. She nodded to Mira and Bao-Dur, and her friends relaxed. She sat in one of the chairs opposite to where Mical had been sitting when she'd entered. Bao-Dur and Mira came and sat on either side of her, and Mical sat down across from them.

Darden took some jerky out of her pack and shared it out amongst the four of them. Mira did the same with some dried fruit. Mical thanked her, and from his own pack by the table brought out two biscuits he broke in half.

"Why are you worried about Jedi history?" Darden asked him.

"Much has been forgotten in recent wars," Mical answered her. "I fear that greater troubles shall stem from that loss of knowledge in the future. The destruction of the Academy on Ossus near the Cron Drift in the Sith War…the teachings of Master Arca, the adventures of Jolee Bindo on the Rimward Missions…all these are in danger of being lost, forever."

Darden took a swallow of water from her canteen, and handed it over to Bao-Dur. She'd used up the water in his after their first laigrek fight here in the sublevel, to wash her hands after healing her calf. He took the canteen with a nod of gratitude. "How much do you know about what's been going on, Mical?" Darden asked the young man.

"Not nearly enough," he replied, looking down at his datarecord. "It is beyond me why the Jedi would exile themselves as they have, when the galaxy needs them so. It is not their way. But, perhaps they are hiding simply because so many people hate them these days."

"Huh," Mira said, chewing thoughtfully. "I'd noticed that. The Jedi haven't done me any favors, but I still can't understand why everybody hates their guts."

"But…are you not a Jedi?" Mical asked, confused. "Your lightsaber…"

"Eh, kind of," Mira said. She didn't elaborate. Mical looked from her to Bao-Dur, then back to Darden.

"It is difficult sometimes for the Jedi to see such things, since much of it is rooted in human nature," he said, sounding a little uncertain. "The Jedi are often removed from the events of daily life, insulated. But the reason the Jedi Civil War was named such was because few in the galaxy can recognize the difference between the Sith and the Jedi. To them, they are both Jedi, with different philosophies."

Darden kept hearing that. She'd heard it from Kreia, from Atton, from Mandalore, from Terena Adare, and most memorably, from those two women in Khoonda. _Sith are just Jedi in black robes. They just kill people directly, instead of letting them die. _

She frowned. "But you don't hate the Jedi," she remarked.

Mical smiled oddly. "No," he said quietly. "I do not hate them. They only raise questions without answers. Jedi are not supposed to be like the rest of us. They are supposed to see a higher purpose in all things. And they are supposed to train students responsibly and well, so mistakes of the past are not repeated. Yet all I have seen is ignorance and arrogance, and what those seeds created in the Republic. It is difficult to follow the Jedi Code, when so few others have. But you know this."

Darden swallowed the last of her dinner. He sounded like Zez-Kai Ell. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"Many Jedi defied the Order during the Mandalorian Wars," Mical explained, "And it paved the way for the Jedi Civil War."

Bao-Dur tensed. Darden stayed still, though, and held Mical's blue gaze. "You know who I am, so you know I was one. Do you blame me, or the Council?"

"There is no blame," Mical said gently. "All must accept what has happened. But at its core, one must wonder whether it was the failure of the Jedi teachings, or of the teachers themselves. Many of the Jedi Council trained Exar Kun, Ulic…Revan and Malak. How could they not see the danger they posed? And if they could not, perhaps there was some essential part of their teachings that was flawed. Something beyond the Jedi Code that was missing."

Darden was impressed. Her thoughts wandered to Kreia. She began playing pazaak in her head. Mira sensed it, and her gaze sharpened. "You're pretty well-informed," Darden said casually. "Do you know who trained Revan?"

Mira's gaze sharpened even more, and she gripped the table.

Mical didn't notice. He replied easily, "Revan had many Masters. Zhar, Dorak, Master Kae before Kae left for the Wars."

Darden raised an eyebrow. The Handmaiden's mother had trained Revan at some point? Interesting.

Mical went on. "Towards the end of her training, she sought out many to learn techniques," he said. "It is said that she returned to her first Master at the end of her training, in order to learn how she might best leave the Order."

Darden kept playing pazaak for thirty more seconds as she processed this. Then she let go, focused on something else. Mira frowned.

"So," Darden said. "You work for the Republic. Why?"

Mical smiled, a bit self-consciously. "I'm trying to save the Republic," he said. "Dantooine and the Jedi Order are instrumental to that effort. Despite the troubles of the Jedi Civil War, there are those among the Republic who still favor the Jedi and wish them to return. And there are Admirals within the Fleet who recognize that the Jedi must be found if the Republic is to hold together. Yet as long as Onderon remains within the Republic, and the efforts on Telos succeed, that is all that matters."

"We've been working on that," Bao-Dur told him. He nodded at Darden. "She's made sure Onderon will remain in the Republic, and done a lot for Telos. More than she had to."

Mical's eyes brightened. "But that is wonderful news!" he cried. "The Republic is so fragile right now. Telos is important because its success will determine whether or not the dead worlds receive the same reconstruction efforts. If Telos is rebuilt and made habitable again, it will affect a string of worlds along the Rim."

Bao-Dur nodded. "I know. I've spent most of the last three years working to help Telos."

"Why do you think the Jedi are important?" Darden asked Mical.

Mical shifted. "The Jedi are a symbol," he said. "As much damage as their reputation took during the Sith War and the Jedi Civil War, there are still many to whom they serve as an example. Plus…there have been times in the past where a single Jedi has been enough to change the face of a world…or a galaxy." He looked hard at Darden, then, and smiled that odd smile, again. "I suppose I still believe that might be possible. Despite the betrayal of many Jedi against the Republic, I must concede that as figureheads, they serve a vital role."

Darden felt there was a deeper meaning in the words of this polite young man, and it made her a little uncomfortable. Even if she had been turning worlds upside-down and reorganizing political-economic structures, it didn't mean she could be the figurehead that would change the entire galaxy. Again. She looked at her chrono, and blinked. Outside, the sun would be setting over Dantooine. "I'm sorry," she said. "Here we are, sitting around in a ruined, laigrek-infested Enclave, shooting the breeze and talking history. This must seem incredibly weird to you. You don't know us…"

"On the contrary," Mical said, smiling. "I have been here some time with no conversation. I apologize if I have taken too much of your time. I am sure you have many things to do."

Those words struck an old chord in Darden. She looked around at the Archive, and at Mical. She seemed to remember a little blue-eyed boy with sandy hair that flopped down over his forehead, once, one of the Younglings here in the Enclave, sitting here in this room with her, on the floor in front of the statue.

_I have to go back to Master Vrook, Darden. I am certain you have better things to do with your Master. Thanks for the stories. Will I see you tomorrow?_

She shook her head, which had gone all fuzzy, and stared at Mical again. "Just now, you reminded me of…you seem familiar. The way you talk, your face…have I met you before?"

Mical stood abruptly. He picked up the datarecord he'd been examining and walked over to a shelf. "I imagine that in your travels of the galaxy, Darden Leona, you have seen many people," he called. "Faces tend to blur together after a time."

Darden watched him. It wasn't really an answer. Slowly, she answered, "Yeah, I guess. But I really should be going." She stood, and Mira and Bao-Dur stood with her.

Mical returned to the table. "You must find where the mercenaries have taken Vrook Lamar," he said. "I understand. I shall follow you out, if you don't mind, and return here another day, preferably with support."

"Of course," Darden said.

Mical grabbed his pack and swung it over his shoulder. "If I might ask, why do you seek the Jedi?"

"Well, the Sith are back," Darden explained. "I'm trying to stop them. But I can't really do it all on my own."

She opened the door, and activating her lightsaber, sliced open the two laigrek that had been trying to get in. Mical shot out another's eye with perfect precision. For a few moments, there was no conversation.

Then it was over, and they were moving through the dim halls of the sublevel again. "If the Sith are rising in the galaxy again, then it is strange the Jedi would not be there to meet them,"Mical said thoughtfully into the darkness. "And that I have not seen more evidence of the Sith," he added.

"Trust me, they're out there," Darden said grimly. "They've been chasing me for months."

"No, I believe you," Mical said. "I merely find such subtleties among the Sith to be strange. Though they have been known to practice deception, in the histories since the time of the Dark Lords Kun and Qel-Droma, and Revan and Malak, such subtleties have been rare."

"Basically, subtlety isn't rare at all," Mira said, laughing at him.

Mical frowned, hurt. "In any case," he said, after a short, awkward pause, "It seems to me our goals are compatible. If you would have me, I can apply my knowledge and skills to helping you find the answers you seek."

Then laigreks attacked again. This time, it was a much bigger colony, maybe a dozen of them. As Darden fought them, she thought. Mical really did seem familiar. Mira fought close beside her. "He wants to come with us now?" she asked in a low voice, fighting with fierce concentration in the Shii-Cho form, the only one she'd really got down yet. "I mean, he's easy on the eyes, but he talks like a roomful of Jedi."

The last laigrek fell, and the four of them stood around in the corridor. Mical watched Darden with hopeful eyes. Bao-Dur looked doubtful. "Our ship already has a lot of people on it, General," he said.

Darden hesitated. "I know," she admitted. "But…" she felt Mical's presence, and some sort of presentiment stopped her from saying no. "He's supposed to come," she said. "You're supposed to come with us, Mical. The last crew member. You certainly are well-informed." To Mira and Bao-Dur she added, "Besides, in our little mini-Republic we've got a Representative for almost every interest _except_ the Republic Senate and armada."She shrugged.

"My thanks," Mical said, smiling.

"Great,"Mira said. "I hope he doesn't snore like Atton."

Darden led Mical, Mira, and Bao-Dur to the exit. In a room off the western hall, they found Jorran the salvager, locked up like Mical had been away from the laigreks. Darden released him and he thanked them, before running away from them like the plague.

He'd gotten away by the time Darden made it to the door. But there was someone else waiting for her. Geverick, the unpleasant salvager from Khoonda, was waiting with four lackeys. Apparently, he hadn't been fooled by Darden's stranger act. And he certainly wasn't now, when she and two of her companions bore ignited lightsabers. He knew they were Jedi. And he wanted the bounty.

Darden tried to convince him the bounty wasn't live anymore, but he wouldn't listen. There was a brief, very unequal battle, and then Darden and her companions walked away, a bit saddened, from the corpses. But not before Darden had stripped them of their credits. They wouldn't need them anymore. She handed them to Mira.

"There," she said. "Couple hundred. Knock yourself out shopping tomorrow."

Mira was frowning. She looked back at the bodies in the entrance to the Enclave sublevel. "I _don't_ like this," she said quietly.

"They would have killed us all, Mira," Mical said gently.

"I know," she replied. "I still don't like it." But she thrust the credits in her pack.

Darden gripped Mira's shoulder. It was twilight on Dantooine. Little insects sang in the grass, and small amphibians croaked from the creek. They were more active now, but Darden knew the kath hounds would be sleeping in their dens. "Let's go," she said.

* * *

TWO HOURS LATER

Mira headed straight to the fresher when they arrived back at the _Ebon Hawk_, and Bao-Dur went to the garage. Mical looked around the main hold. "This is your vessel?" he asked, voice a little strained. "May I ask how you came by the _Ebon Hawk_? It has quite a history."

"You can ask," Darden said wearily, sinking down on one of the benches. "I don't quite know the answer, except that our utility droid had something to do with it. Men's dorm is portside. You're lucky. We have exactly one bunk left. Women's dorm is full up, even with someone sleeping in the cargo hold."

"Thank you,"Mical said politely. "I am sure I will be quite comfortable."

"Who'll be quite comfortable?" Atton asked, coming around the corner. He saw Mical, saw the soldier bag, and took it all in in a moment.

"Oh, no," he said. "Don't you think we have enough people crawling around here, Darden? Who the hell is this, anyway?"

"My name is Mical," said the same, looking at Atton's dirty hands and messy hair with distaste. Atton had obviously been working in the engine room today, but Darden knew Mical couldn't be expected to know that. "And what are you called?"

"Atton. What are you doing here?"

"I am interested in the fate of the Jedi. I do not wish to see them disappear from the galaxy, nor does the Republic," Mical answered proudly.

"He's Republic! Darden!" Atton snapped, rounding on her.

Darden held up her hands. "Hey, the Sith, the Mandalorians, and the Exchange all have reps on the _Ebon Hawk_," she said. She'd explained the crew to Mical on the way over. "Personally, I like the Republic as an institution much better."

"Everybody does," Atton said, rolling his eyes. "That's not the point. Do you really want this guy interfering with our business?"

"Atton," Mical interrupted, "I am not here to interfere, but to help, if I may. I assure you, I intend your cause no harm and I will be no hindrance."

"Yeah, you better not," Atton growled. He sighed then, and waved Mical away. "Go grab a bunk," he said.

Mical looked at Darden uncertainly. She nodded encouragingly, and he made his way portside.

Darden looked up at Atton. "You could've been a little friendlier," she told him. "Seriously, you haven't been this upset about a new crew member since the Handmaiden."

"We don't _need_ anyone else, Darden," Atton argued. "We didn't then, but all the others, except the two crazy droids, have been helpful, so whatever. But it's hard enough to feed everyone as is, you _never_ sleep, don't have time enough for _anybody_, _everybody_'s on edge…" he paused. "I know we haven't been talking, but I _see_ you in the med bay, more and more. You think I haven't noticed your nightmares are getting worse? And now this guy comes in with his…"

"With his courtesy, clean face, clean past, and Republic affiliation," Darden said, cutting him off brutally and standing. "At least be honest about your objections, Atton."

Atton dragged his shirt sleeve across his forehead, all greasy with engine oil. He glared. Darden sighed. She reached up a hand and touched his dirty face, then tried to make some order out of the mynock's nest that was his hair, grateful Mira was in the shower, Bao-Dur was in the garage, and everyone else would be asleep by now. "Don't be afraid. And don't be angry, please," she said, very quietly. She knew she was almost begging. "These last two weeks, Atton—I need your support. I depend on it."

Atton grabbed her wrist in an iron grip. He lowered her hand away from him. "Don't mess with me, sweetheart," he said in a low, dangerous voice. "I've had about enough of it."

Darden held his gaze, unafraid. She knew he wouldn't hurt her. "I _never _mean to," she replied.

Atton laughed harshly, unconvinced.

Darden didn't flinch. "If you won't play nice for me, do it for yourself. You should be better than this. You can be better than this, and you know it."

Atton held her wrist, staring at her. Then he released her, right as Mical walked back into the room. He turned then, wiped his hand on his shirt, and extended his hand. Mical looked up at Atton for a moment, then took it.

"You took me by surprise—Mical, is it?" Atton said. "Things are pretty crowded around here, but Force knows there are still thousands more Sith than there are of us. I'll show you around."

"I am grateful, Atton," Mical said. But his eyes strayed from Atton's somewhat cleaner face and hair to Darden's greasy hand. Darden turned away.

"You want something to eat?" she asked. "I'll fix you both something. Better not scare you off with the synthesizer just yet."

* * *

**A/N: So I'm not the biggest fan of Mical. Not that he's not a nice guy and all. In fact, writing this chapter helped me to get a grasp on exactly how much of a nice guy he is. But he talks WAY, WAY too much, and his idolization of the Exile is almost more uncomfortable than Juhani's of Revan. Of course, there are way too many characters that idolize the Exile in this game. Part of the reason why I like Canderous, Mira, and Atton so much is that they **_**don't**_**. **

**On the Atton front, it pains me to keep Atton and Darden estranged. But whereas in **_**The Edge of Light and Dark**_** Carth Onasi was the idiot, in this game Darden is the idiot. This being the case, and considering the recent introduction of a character that Atton's insecure enough to consider a threat, I do not see a reconciliation taking place between them very soon. But that's cool. I can work with a feuding Atton and Darden, too. In fact, it leaves an opening for one of the scenes I wrote really early on between Mandalore and Atton. "Pilots of the **_**Ebon Hawk**_**." **

**Coming Soon: Darden Leona finds and frees Vrook Lamar before the Dantooine mercs ship him off to Nar Shaddaa. But the old Jedi Master might not have **_**wanted **_**to be rescued! As the real intentions of the Dantooine mercs become apparent, will Darden be able to backtrack in time to save Khoonda from total annihilation?**

**Keep reading! I'll keep writing. Final papers are almost done with, and then I'll be able to devote my full energies to this story!**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	27. Rescue Gone Wrong

**Disclaimer: Yadda yadda yadda. You know how this goes.**

* * *

XXVI.

Rescue Gone Wrong

THE NEXT MORNING

She'd gone again. Without him. With that Mical guy. Again. Mira too. Whatever. Apparently the mercs here had taken Vrook to the crystal caves. The ones infested with kinrath.

Atton stared at the instrument's panel, wishing he hadn't fixed everything he could without better parts yesterday. He stood up, went to the navicomputer, stared at it. But it was no good, and he knew it.

There was a low whistle from the doorway. Atton turned to see Mandalore standing there. Oddly enough, he hadn't put on his precious armor yet. He just stood there in his black undershirt, boots, and pants, arms crossed. Atton could see the clan tattoo on his bicep.

"You are messed up, Rand," Mandalore said without prelude. "Pilots of this bucket. Well—let's just say I wouldn't want the job."

"Good morning to you, too," Atton sneered. "What do you want, Canderous?"

"Don't get your panties in a twist," Mandalore said mockingly. "The big, bad Mandalorian isn't gonna hurt you. I don't want a fight. Not with your kind. No, I just wanted to offer you some friendly advice."

Mandalore didn't have too high an opinion of him, Atton knew. But the sarcasm was a little much, especially considering his mood this morning. "If you want me to leave the Exile alone, don't bother," Atton said. "Nothing's gonna happen. So it's no use telling me that if I hurt her you'll empty three rounds from that monster rifle of yours into me and light up my corpse like Unification Day. Especially with Blondie around."

"Don't sell yourself short," Canderous said. "She's not interested in him, and she won't be, either. If it was going to be anybody, it'd be you, Rand. But there's no need for me or anybody to protect Leona." He tapped a finger against his arm. "She's got all you people wrapped around her finger, even that Sith woman posing as her teacher. You don't get what she is, any of you. She can handle herself."

Atton had been about to leave. Now he stopped. He stared at Mandalore. "Wait. Sith woman. Kreia? You think she's Sith, too?"

Canderous snorted. "Why do you think I'm still here, Rand? Really. Nobody else here knows anything about Revan, or will anytime soon. And sure, traveling around with a woman like Darden Leona, helluva opportunity to find more of my people, recruit them to the cause. But I could do that on my own. No, I'm here because that witch implied _she_ knows something about Revan. And about me. I wanna know what she knows, yeah, but more than that, I wanna know why she's holding it over me. Now, I've watched her. I think she's got stuff on a lot of the crew. Not everyone. Just those of us she considers a threat. To her, to Leona, I don't know. But she watches that Echani girl, she watches Visas, she watches Mira, she watches me, and she watches you."

"I'm no threat to Darden," Atton snapped. "In fact, that's the only reason I haven't put a bolt through Kreia's brain already. Because I'm not sure it won't kill Darden, too."

Mandalore nodded. Something in his face changed. For a moment he looked almost approving. "Good," he said. "I thought that was how it was. But I don't want to talk about the witch."

Atton sighed, turning away with lifted hands. "No," he drawled. "Of course not. You had some _advice_?"

His tone was mocking, unwelcoming, but it didn't faze Canderous. Of course it didn't. "I did," he said. "Like I said, Leona's tougher than you people give her credit for. The Iridonian knows. I know. I fought her, in the Mandalorian Wars. She is ruthless, calculating, willing to do whatever it takes to achieve her goals. She was right under Malak in Revan's chain of command, and she earned that spot."

Atton glared at him. "I know that! You think I don't know that?"

"I don't think you do," Mandalore said. "Not like you need to. See, she always did what she thought was right. Conviction like that—it can cut someone like you in half like a vibrosword, Rand. It's killing you now. She doesn't think it's right to start anything with you right now, no matter how she feels. And that's fine. But if she changes her mind, if she decides for some reason she wants to get into it with you, she'll know what she's doing. Just make sure _you_ do."

Atton looked at Canderous. "You're worried about _me_," he said, incredulous. "Not her?"

Mandalore walked past him to the pilot's chair. "I knew a guy once," he said slowly. "Not too long ago. He sat right here. Good with a blaster. Good with the ship. Good man. Better than you, though he was Republic to the bone." There was the customary sneer in Mandalore's voice, but underneath, he was dead serious. Atton listened.

"He flew the ship for another woman," Mandalore continued. "Another ex-Jedi. Now, there isn't another in the galaxy like _her_, and there won't be again, but she and your Darden Leona had a few things in common. She was beautiful, she was inspiring, she was deadly, and her fate, her destiny, or whatever was bigger than me and my people, and it was bigger than what she felt for the pilot of the _Ebon Hawk_."

Atton looked at the pilot's seat. "Revan? And who? The Admiral? Carth Onasi?"

Mandalore was silent for a long moment. "Leona knows," he said finally. "She talked to Mission and Dustil. If you talk to the utility droid, he'll probably show you the holo-recording." He gripped the chair. "Revan gave me the mask and told me to unite the clans,"he said, very quietly. "She told us both there was something she had to do, and then she left on this ship. Now it's back and she isn't. I'm still waiting for my commander. Carth? He's a little worse off." He turned, and walked out, clapping Atton's shoulder with a heavy hand. Atton's knees buckled under the blow. "It's not as bad as it could be, Rand. Watch yourself."

"You keep watching Kreia," Atton said. "That's different."

Mandalore paused. "That is different," he admitted. "Yeah. Can I count on you to help, when the time comes?"

Atton hesitated, then inclined his head. Kreia had threatened him, the last time he'd spoken with her regarding their arrangement, wanting out because he'd told Darden everything, wanting out so he could follow Darden just because he wanted to. She had threatened to make him see the things he had done back then, make him feel what he had felt. He certainly didn't want that, but more, he wanted Darden to be safe, even considering how things were now, and what Canderous had just told him. "I'll do what has to be done," he said.

Canderous regarded him. "Huh," he said after a moment. "I said she'd make you a soldier and a man." Then he walked out without further comment.

Atton sank down into the pilot's chair, trying not to feel too tragic as he did so. Revan and Carth Onasi, huh? It was news to him. And Carth Onasi'd broken his poor heart when Revan left for Force knew where? Cute that Canderous was worried. Atton would've thought Mandalore would be too tough for that. Atton tried to force a laugh. But he couldn't manage it. Try as he might, Atton couldn't see anything funny about the situation, past or present. He remembered the holo-recording on the _Harbinger_, the desperation the Admiral had shown over the _Ebon Hawk_. And he wondered how he would feel if Darden just dropped him off on a planet somewhere and flew the _Ebon Hawk_ into the Unknown Regions. He felt a little sick.

He couldn't deny the parallel the Mandalorian had drawn, or the effect that Darden had had on him. Except Revan had given Carth a chance, Atton thought. At least, that was the impression he'd gotten from Canderous. And Darden wasn't going to give him one. Probably just as well. He wasn't any Republic hero. If he was a soldier and a man now, he was only scraping by. And in the end, he was just a fool, space-slime that didn't deserve her. If he just learned what she could teach him of the Jedi, and watched her back when he could, it would be enough. It would have to be.

* * *

CRYSTAL CAVES

Most everyone had been as apprehensive about another addition to the crew as Bao-Dur and Mira, though Atton was the only one that had yelled about it. Kreia had taken it about as well, though. When Darden had come into the dormitories the night prior, Kreia had not said a single word to her, and she hadn't this morning, either. Mical had met everyone either the night before or this morning, with the exception of Kreia. And now Darden had taken him out on mission with her so he could feel a part of the crew. She had done this with every crew member she'd gained since the beginning of her journey, except HK-47 and G0-T0.

They'd run into that last group of HK-50s that HK-47 needed to triangulate the location of the factory on the plains this morning. Darden had done as instructed and taken the pieces he needed, because as much as she didn't like HK-47, she didn't like his upgrades after her, either.

And now Darden, Mira, and Mical were in the crystal caves in the Dantooine plains. These crystal caves were currently infested with kinrath, giant, venomous, quadrapedal crustaceans that had always been a problem on Dantooine. Now, with the decreased settler population, they were proving particularly pernicious. Zherron had asked her especially to take care of them if she could, yesterday. But that wasn't why she was here.

Darden was stubbing her toes on phosphorescent crystals in the dark because the datapad on the dead mercs yesterday had indicated that the mercs that had been to the Enclave sublevel had taken Vrook Lamar to the crystal caves. Darden had to hand it to them. As the location of a secret base, it was ideal. Smelly, dangerous, hard to get to. Most people wouldn't even come looking.

And she'd been here half an hour and hadn't found the mercs. Once, many years ago, she had fought of kinrath in the crystal caves to find a supplementary crystal for her lightsaber. It had been the thing to do for Padawans on Dantooine. But the kinrath had reworked the caves since then, and the passages had changed. Darden was pretty sure she'd gone in circles in the labyrinthine corridors at least twice.

So were her friends. "Are you certain we have not been this way before?" Mical asked.

"Yeah, we've passed that rock that looks like a laigrek twice," Mira agreed.

Darden ignored them, but when they came to the fork in the cave, she went left instead of right. Mira looked around at the algae-grown walls, stalagtites, and stalagmites. "This is different," she observed.

A kinrath shrieked defiance. "I don't like it," Mira said.

"Come _on_," Darden said, activating her lightsaber.

Quite by accident they'd stumbled, not onto the merc camp they were trying to get to, but the kinrath hatching ground Zherron wanted them to destroy. Several small, ravenous kinrath scuttled out from behind a column. Along with an enormous one that Darden knew had to be the colony queen. Darden shielded.

For a full ten minutes Darden, Mira, and Mical fought in the kinrath nest. Mical fired from the background, but his blaster bolts could do little against the kinrath's tough, white exoskeletons. Darden and Mira found themselves taking on the brunt of the battle. Mira stood next to Darden. Mimicking Darden's lightsaber strokes yesterday and this morning in actual combat, Mira was starting to get more of a feel for her weapon. She laid about her with her single, violet blade, and felled several of the hatchlings, whose exoskeletons had not yet hardened. But the queen, angry at this murder of her offspring, yet unwilling to go too near the more skillfully wielded, longer blade of the smaller intruder, fell upon Mira in all her wrath, and Mira was unprepared.

Mical couldn't shoot around the column in the center of the nest to protect Mira, and Darden was beset by three starving, furious hatchlings. So they couldn't back her up when the kinrath matriarch's long, needle sharp, venomous beak darted out once, twice, thrice, past Mira's still-weak defense and impaled her shoulder, stomach, and arm. Mira cried out and fell, bleeding. Darden felt a hot flash of pain in her own shoulder, stomach, and arm, though it did not incapacitate her. She released a wave of the Force, and hatchlings and queen were both knocked back and stunned. Darden moved her lightsaber in one furious arc and cut all the kinrath hatchlings in two. Then she stabbed the matriarch through her compound eyes and down into her bloated body. The kinrath queen fell back, dead.

Darden turned to Mira, but Mical was already there, kneeling beside her pupil with her head in his left arm and an antidote syringe in his right hand. He injected the antidote into her arm.

Mira was gasping. Her face was deadly pale. She smiled at Darden as Darden approached. "Those crab things sure have a nasty bite, Dar," she grit out between clenched teeth. "Guess I better work Soresu some more, huh?"

She groaned. Her hand, clenched over her stomach, was red.

Mical looked down at Mira. "I have a healing pack here," he said quickly. "If I give her a shot of adrenaline, it should speed the antidote through the system, but it could also increase blood loss. The kolto shot could help congeal the wounds, but not enough that she could be moved safely to the _Ebon Hawk _and the med bay."

"Mical," Darden said. "Shut up."

She took Mira, gently, from Mical. She placed her hand over Mira's on the young woman's abdomen, the worst wound. She felt the tear in the stomach, in the muscle. She focused with everything she was on the Force, and on how Mira's body should work. Beside her, the crystals in the nest here started glowing. The Force came easily here. So easily.

Mira's stomach wall, muscle, and skin knit itself together. Mira gasped, and Mical watched in wonder as what could very likely have been a mortal wound ceased to be a wound at all. Darden took a deep breath, hardly wearied at all, and moved her hand to Mira's shoulder.

She healed Mira's shoulder, and then her arm, and Mira sat up. "Tell you what," she said, a little shakily. "We are _definitely_ using those credits to get me some new clothes this afternoon."

"That was…" Mical began, incredulous. "Mira, you might have died!"

"Yeah, well, I didn't," Mira said, but she was shuddering.

"Darden, I have seen Jedi wield the Force before, but never…"

"It wasn't me," Darden cut him off, looking around at the crystals.

Mical stopped. He looked around, too.

Mira touched the crystal formation closest to them. "They make it easier, don't they?" she said. "They…absorb the Force or something. It's why those things nested here, but it's why you could heal me like that."

"Yeah…how do you feel?" Darden asked.

Mira ignited her lightsaber. She stood, and strode over to an unhatched kinrath egg, and brought her lightsaber down viciously. "Like I never want anyone to feel that ever again," Mira said.

Darden nodded. She stood, and with Mira, she destroyed the remaining eggs.

"You _do_ need to work on Soresu," Darden said, when they had finished. "You need to work on all your lightsaber forms. Don't scare me like that again, Mira."

Mira looked at her. "When I fell, right before you killed them all, you clutched your stomach, too," she said. "Did you—like with Kreia?"

Darden looked at the crystals. "Master Kavar said bonds often form between master and student," she said. "I didn't feel what you felt to the extent that I feel it when Kreia's hurt, but yes, I could sense your pain. I think the crystals here exaggerated the effect."

"The cave is Force Sensitive," Mical said. "I've read of places such as this."

"Yeah," Darden agreed. "Padawans used to come here, back when the Enclave still stood, to find unique crystals for their lightsabers. I came here once."

She reached out towards a crystal formation, and a vision flashed into her mind.

* * *

_A woman, maybe five years ago, had stood where Darden stood now. She was dressed simply, in the loose brown and white robes of a Jedi Padawan. Wildly curling chestnut hair was escaping from the complex plaits and pins she'd done it in, and she was breathing heavily. Around her, too, egg remnants were scattered yellow over the cave floor._

_ Her thigh was bleeding, tinged green from a viper kinrath sting. She kept herself turned away from her companions, so they wouldn't see her wound. She put her slender hands to it, and the crystals around her glowed. The poison left the wound, and the wound closed up. The woman looked down in amazement, because she was no weaker than she'd been a moment ago, yet she'd been completely healed. The Force was strong in this place. _

_ "If we are going to prevent a blood feud between the Matales and the Sandrals, we must move quickly, Aithne!" a cultured, female voice said. _

_ The woman looked over her shoulder and smirked at her companion in the background. "Hey, you've got a fancy lightsaber crystal from the creepy kinrath cave; I should get a fancy lightsaber crystal from the creepy kinrath cave," she said in a low, teasing voice. "Isn't it some Jedi rite of passage or something?"_

_ "And you've been a Jedi for what, all of a day?" a man asked, amused._

_ Darden felt the woman's sudden, incredible rush of affection for the man. "Twelve hours," she corrected. "And don't call me a Jedi!"_

_ "You called yourself a Jedi," the woman's female companion objected irritably. "Honestly, Aithne! Cannot you admit you are a Jedi? I assure you, you will not die."_

_ The woman rolled her eyes. "Says you," she said. "Look how you turned out, Bas." But Darden could tell that she didn't entirely mean her criticism. _

_ She reached forward, and with a strong hand, grabbed a crystal from the formation. The crystal yielded to her without a fight, ready to be hers, and to help her in the Force. The woman's arched eyebrows rose in wonder, and her golden brown eyes flashed. They were the last thing Darden saw before the vision ended._

* * *

Darden opened her eyes. "Revan!" she murmured. "She was here!"

"Five years ago," Mira said. Her voice was strange. Darden looked over at her. Mira was gripping the wall of the cave. Her eyes were distant, and she was shaking. "I know. I saw it, too."

"I as…" Mical began. Then he cut off, and looked with wide eyes at Darden.

In fact, in Darden's mind, she felt seven other people reeling with her from the vision she'd just seen. Kreia, obviously, but also Mira, every one of her pupils back on the _Ebon Hawk_, and Mical.

_"General?"_

_ "Darden?"_

_ "What has happened?"_

_ "What the _hell_ was that?!"_

Their minds clamored at hers for answers, save Kreia's. Darden held her temples.

"She passed this way," Darden said, fighting back the mental overload. She said the words aloud to her companions, but also in her head. "The crystals remember. They sensed my connection to Revan, and told me, and through me, you. It's fine. It's fine."

"This Jedi thing's for real," Mira said, clutching at her stomach and the bloody rags over the wound-that-wasn't. "I…I really can do this. I _am_ doing this. It's not just Nar Shaddaa. It's…it's everywhere. Everything."

Mical's fear of what he'd just seen emanated from him like a dark wave. After so many years, he didn't know if he could…Bao-Dur wanted to know about the Aithne/Revan distinction, and which had ended the Jedi Civil War. The Handmaiden wanted to know about Carth and Yusanis. Visas wondered if their vision had been of Revan, if Revan's path had always been set, who Revan had been, and who Visas was. Atton's anger at this unwanted mass vision pulsed through Darden's mind, too, and she felt his curiosity about how anyone with eyes could have possibly mistaken Revan for a man.

Questions, demands, from far too many minds and hearts overwhelmed Darden Leona. She sank to the floor. Their uncertainty, their fear, their excitement hurt her. The crystals around her started glowing again as the Force gathered to her, converging upon her like a hurricane. Darden couldn't help crying out. It had been a similar feeling on Nar Shaddaa, except she hadn't been intimately acquainted with the sentients on the Smuggler's Moon. She had felt surface feelings, currents of emotion and thought. Now every question, every motivation of all her Force Sensitive allies pressed upon her mind, hammered at her consciousness for attention. And she could still feel Revan's presence here, ringing out through time like a bell, deafening in its own right.

_"Kreia! Help!" _Darden cried. But Kreia was silent.

The others continued beating at her mind for answers, but Atton 'heard' her, and he calmed himself. She felt his anger, his frustration with her pulsing in the background, but above them he 'spoke'.

_"Listen to _me_, sweetheart. To me. Okay. I deal. I draw 5, you draw—"_

_ "Three," _Darden thought back.

_"That's it. 5-3. I draw 7. My total's 1_2."

_"I draw 10. My total's 13."_

_ "I play Mebla's special Double card to get 19 and hold."_

_ "I draw 8 and bust."_

_ "Really, sweetheart? This is your game. You can make it end however you want."_

_ "This is _our_ game, and I always lose with you."_

_ "Funny. I kind of thought the same thing. Fine. My hand. I draw 10."_

Atton's 'voice' crowded out the others. Or the others 'heard' him and built their own walls, realizing they were hurting Darden. Either way, the mental storm abated, and Darden sat up, still playing pazaak in her head, though Atton was now playing his own game.

Mira was kneeling in front of her, looking worried. "You okay, Dar?" she wanted to know.

Darden smiled shakily. "Revan always did have a powerful effect on people," she said. "You know, I'd forgotten what she looked like? I only ever saw her face once."

"It was a choice she made so that she would be an idea, not a human woman," Mical said in a hoarse voice. "But your—our –vision was not of Revan. It was of Aithne Morrigan, the woman that Revan became."

Darden looked at him. She was almost positive now that she did remember him, from years and years and years ago, when he was just a child in the Academy here. "Do you want to tell me about it?" she asked him quietly.

"I do not believe so, no," he said. "Not yet. Forgive me."

He placed a tentative hand on the crystal mass, and it glowed softly. A single crystal fell away from the outcropping and into his hand. "They remember her," he said quietly. "And Bastila Shan, and…" he trailed off.

"Carth Onasi," Darden murmured. She closed her eyes, remembering the rush of elation and affection Aithne Morrigan had felt at the sound of Carth's voice. She had _known_ that Revan had to have loved him!

"They remember them," Mical said. "And now they will remember us."

"If it calls to you, you should keep it," Darden told him. "For when you do feel like talking about it. Mira? If you look, you might find one that likes you. You need a supplementary crystal for your lightsaber."

Mira nodded. Mical slipped his crystal into his pocket, and Mira took another from a different formation. For Darden's part, she went to the exact place in the formation from which Revan had taken her crystal in the vision. She touched the crystal. For a split-second, she saw Revan's face in it, pale and delicate with golden brown eyes that danced with humor even as they burned with all the fury and wonder and brilliance of the Force. Then a single crystal yielded to her, and all she could see in the formation was her own face, reflected back at her.

She finally stopped playing pazaak in her head, and all was silent. She pocketed her crystal, and turned to face her companions. "Let's get out of here and find Vrook," she said.

* * *

THE _EBON HAWK_

WOMEN'S DORMITORY

The old woman wrapped her robe more tightly around herself, shuddering. She had not anticipated this. The Exile had come back more strongly than she had been prepared to deal with. She'd bonded with all of them, these lost souls from the shadows and battlefields of the galaxy. And they were become Jedi. All except the wandering apprentice, the Exile's long lost disciple, and when he was grown to full strength he would be more dangerous in his own right than any of the others. She could not risk revealing herself to _him_, even now.

The Exile had lent too much of her strength to others. It was her weakness. It had ruined her, all those years ago, at Malachor. It had wrought her, all those years ago, at Malachor. Her connection to others was the crux of the old woman's plan, but now, she was finding, it was also the point upon which the entire scheme could collapse.

Lies. All the time the old woman lied. And the Exile's pupils had grown strong, not weak, upon a diet of their teacher's knowledge. Today this had almost destroyed the Exile. Today this had saved the Exile. They would defend her, all of them.

It remained to be seen whether or not they would move to do so before things drew to a close. Even now, the Force brought the Exile closer and closer to the third one she sought.

But for now, this did not matter. For now, nothing mattered. The face of the old woman's dearest, greatest pupil burned through her mind like a firebrand, and her heart was as gall and she wept, for the one gone beyond where she could follow.

* * *

CRYSTAL CAVE

It was much easier to navigate the caves starting from the kinrath nest. In short order after the incidents at the crystal chamber, Darden, Mical, and Mira had located another chamber, this one larger, cleaner, and lit with artificial lights. Barrels of supplies stood here and there about the cavern, and eight or so mercenaries ranged around. Four were playing cards and drinking juma juice at a table. Two were stretched out lazing on cots, and two stood guard over the corner where someone had rigged up a force cage. In the force cage, scowling, stood Jedi Master Vrook Lamar, formerly of the Jedi Council.

Vrook saw her before the mercenaries did. For a moment, his tight mouth dropped open. He started pointing wildly back at the tunnels from whence Darden had come. Unfortunately, his gestures caught the attention of the heavily armored, tall, hard-jawed woman guarding him. Her head swiveled to the entrance, and she stiffened.

"This is a restricted area, settler," she called. "How the hell did you get through the kinrath? You should leave."

Vrook seemed to sigh. Darden shot him a puzzled look, then shielded, addressing the woman. "I don't think so," she said. "You've kidnapped this man."

The men playing cards stopped. One of them kicked the two on the cots. The six of them stood, and the woman crossed her arms. "This isn't kidnapping," she said. "This is bounty hunting. This Jedi is worth a lot of credits on Nar Shaddaa, and we're collecting."

"When's the last time you've been to Nar Shaddaa?" Mira asked.

Darden nodded. "The bounty's dead," she added. "The boss got what he wanted, and he's not paying up anymore." She took a few steps forward. "So why don't you just let the nice Jedi go, and no one has to get hurt."

The merc drew her blaster, and the other mercenaries in the cavern drew their weapons as well. "You just want the credits for yourself!" the woman accused Darden. "I'm going to say this nice and simple for your little kath-herding head: unless you want to wind up dead, leave now."

Vrook stared meaningfully at Darden and jerked his head in an incomprehensible manner. Darden activated her lightsaber. So did Mira. The mercenaries' eyes went wide. "I'm not leaving," Darden told them. "Give him up. Now."

For a moment, the merc captain looked uncertain. Then she smiled nastily. "Three times the bounty, boys!" she called to her men. "I warned you, lady. But I'm glad you didn't listen."

She brought her blaster up. Darden adopted a Shien stance. The mercs fired, and battle was joined.

Mira seemed to have been strengthened by her experience in the crystal cave. And in the more open space, Mical could fire more safely, without fear of hitting Darden or Mira. He was a _very_ good shot. Nearly as good as Canderous and probably a little bit better than Darden and Atton. Darden was very impressed. His skill made her fight better. And Mira was backing her up well.

When the battle was over, none of them were wounded. They stood around, looking down at the mercs. Darden stepped forward then, quite calmly, and shut down Master Vrook's force cage.

He stepped out with dignity. He regarded Darden with hard eyes. His jaw was tight. "Always rushing into action without thinking of the consequences," he said into the silence, harshly. "What? You were expecting thanks? Khoonda is in danger, and you've ruined the best chance of avoiding a full-scale conflict."

Darden forced a smile. "Well, hello to you, too," she said, in a phony light tone. "You know, Vrook, it's always _such _a pleasure to talk to you."

Vrook put his hands on his hips. Mira and Mical both shifted uncomfortably. "Is this a joke to you?" Vrook demanded of Darden. "People's lives are at stake. Every action has consequences, no matter how small or insignificant they seem. Even the smallest choice has potential for harm. The Mandalorian Wars were proof of this. Intentions mean nothing if a greater tragedy is caused."

Mira stiffened and opened her mouth, but Darden beat her to it. "So if the galaxy's crashing down, we should all do _nothing_!" she snapped, angry at her reception. "We might make it worse!"

Vrook shook his head. "Did you think rushing into battle against the Mandalorians did anything but bring more harm to the galaxy?" he asked. "It only served to bring about a second war, more dangerous than the first. Countless Jedi died in both conflicts, and everyone who followed Malak and Revan died or turned to the Dark Side. Except conveniently you." His tone was frightfully sarcastic.

"_Yes_!" Darden retorted hotly. "Except me!"

With Atris, it hadn't ever mattered what she thought. Darden had had little respect for the Coruscant historian. But with Vrook, she had tried over and over again to please him, to earn a single word of his approval. It had never worked. Ever. He had always been disappointed in her, always finding fault. He had always been firmly convinced she was on a one-way space highway to the Dark Side. And she had always reacted to his judgment with anger and irritation. Darden hadn't ever fallen to the Dark Side, but Vrook had always made her halfway want to.

"Enough of this," Vrook cut her off. "This is not the time for such arguments." He looked around at the bodies of the mercenaries that had kidnapped him. "The mercenaries have allied themselves with the Exchange and are planning to attack Khoonda," he told Darden. "They've been holding off for the right moment. And now since they lost their captive Jedi, they'll attack immediately. I'm going to try to reach Administrator Adare. Time is of the essence."

He looked at Darden, and then at Mira. He opened his mouth, then shut it, shook his head, and waved a single, contemptuous, dismissive hand. Then he stalked out.

Darden's eyes stung.

"That could've gone better," Mira said after a moment.

Darden laughed bitterly. "I guess," she said. "Actually, that's about the reception I expected. Minus the whole the mercs are going to attack Khoonda thing. Let's get out of here."

"If it helps," Mical offered, "None of the records I ever read say that you did fall the Dark Side."

Darden laughed again. "What the records say doesn't matter so long as people say it," she told him. "And people do say it. All the time. Otherwise how could I have…" she trailed off.

Mical nodded. "I see."

The three of them made their way out of the crystal caves. Darden looked up. Apparently, they'd spent much more time in the caves than she'd thought. The sun was already low in the sky over the plains. And standing in front of it were another six mercs, headed up by a tall, powerfully built man with one eye scarred over and blinded by what looked like an old lightsaber wound.

"You are the Jedi I've heard reports of," he said in a silky, dangerous voice, looking down at Darden's lightsaber with his good eye. "I am Azkul, leader of the mercenaries on Dantooine."

Darden realized that she was hungry and tired, as well as grumpy about Vrook. She crossed her arms. "What do you want?" she demanded.

Azkul smiled. All his teeth were intact, and brilliantly white and sharp. "Straight to the point. I like that. I will be equally direct. I am planning to take Khoonda, and you're going to help me."

_Dammit, Vrook was right_, Darden thought angrily. "I am, am I?"

Azkul wasn't fazed by her hostility. "According to my reports, I have four times as many soldiers as the militia," he told her. "And I am committed to taking Khoonda. It is inevitable that I will succeed. If you wish to avoid my men eradicating the people of Dantooine, you will make it easier for me to take Khoonda. Of course, I will pay well for your services."

Darden sighed. "I'm not a mercenary, Azkul," she said. "And I'm not interested." She'd messed this up. But she'd be damned if she was going to make it worse by allying with Azkul against Administrator Adare, or even letting it be rumored that she had.

"You'd better reconsider," Azkul said after a moment. "I can't have Jedi interfering with my plans. There is a considerable bounty on your kind that I will collect on unless you are working for me."

"We really ought to get G0-T0 to spread the word around here," Mira muttered. "Get him to do something useful for a change."

"There is no bounty, Azkul," Darden said. "Not anymore. And I cannot allow your plans to succeed. I suggest _you_ reconsider attacking."

Azkul scowled. "I have put too much effort into this to allow two exuses for Jedi to stop me now." He raised his hand and walked away. "Men?" he called back over his shoulder.

Darden held up her hand at the same time as Mira did. All six of Azkul's men froze, locked into Stasis. "Do we have to…" Mira began.

"Not now," Darden agreed.

She withdrew her blaster from her pack and hit two men over the head with it. They collapsed into unconsciousness. Mira pushed a rocket into her launcher. Darden grabbed Mical and jumped aside with him. The rocket exploded in the midst of Azkul's men, and those that Darden hadn't already knocked out collapsed, too.

Azkul, about a hundred meters away, turned, presumably to see his men taking down Darden and her companions. Instead, he saw all his men down and Darden and her companions still standing. He ran.

So did Darden and her friends.

"Thanks," Mira panted as they ran up to Khoonda. "I know there's gonna have to be another battle, like on Onderon. And I'll fight in it. I will. But until then, we've done enough."

Darden nodded. She gripped Mira's shoulder. "You keep me decent. You know that?"

Master Vrook had obviously made it to Khoonda. Militia men were planting mines around the approaches to the building. In the courtyard, Berun was drilling a squad. Blaster fire rang out.

Darden entered the building, not bothering to hide her lightsaber. There wasn't a point. Not now. She walked straight to the Administrator's office. Vrook was there, with Adare and Zherron. Darden walked up to Adare, and bowed.

"Mical," the Administrator said in some surprise. "I feared when you didn't return from the ruins that you had gone the way of so many of our salvagers. You have joined with Darden Leona?"

"I have, Administrator," Mical said, with a bow. "Nevertheless, I place myself entirely at your disposal in this crisis."

"I thank you," Adare said. She turned to Darden with a wry smile. "So you have found the elusive Master Vrook. He's told me that his 'rescue' complicated our situation to some degree. I can't say that I anticipated that. I thank you for finding him, though. Vrook has informed me that the mercenaries have devised a plan of attack to annihilate Khoonda itself. I must ask you for your aid, as well as Mical, Darden Leona. Zherron says that even with a plan, the mercenaries will have to gather their forces to coordinate their assault. So we still have time. I'm afraid the militia has not been adequately trained for the task that befalls them."

Zherron, standing by, seconded the Administrator. "The mercs could attack in two days, or it could be as much as a week. In any case, we have to be prepared."

Vrook was silent, glaring at Darden.

Darden bowed to him, and said to Adare, "Don't worry, ma'am. I could hardly have known about Vrook's plan before I arrived and you asked me to find him, but planetary defense is sort of a specialty of mine." Vrook looked thoughtful, then. He knew it was true. He nodded, gesturing for Darden to continue.

Darden stood straighter. "First thing's first," she said. "Who knows about the attack?"

"Right now just us and the militia," Adare said. "I don't want to create a needless panic. But be assured I will make sure that all civilians are warned in time so they can get to safety. Though if we lose this battle, nowhere on Dantooine will be safe for settlers for long."

"No," Darden agreed. "This planet balances on a knife's edge. I felt it the minute I landed. What Dantooine will become depends upon this battle. What do you know that needs doing?"

"Our militia is effective at peace-keeping but isn't prepared for a full-scale battle," Terena Adare told her, frowning. "If you can do anything to ready them for the reality of it, that would be helpful. Besides that, look around Khoonda and see what you can do to strengthen our defenses. I know that we don't have the perimeter turrets online, and that alone could make a significant difference. Zherron says there is a considerable chance they will breach Khoonda down. Anything you can do to slow them down could turn the tide of the battle."

"I'll need access to your defenses," Darden said.

The Administrator handed Darden a plastic card. "Here is a master card key that will open all of the security doors inside Khoonda," she said. "Anything that might aid you in your task, please use. Soon all the civilians will be evacuated. So if you have business with any of them, I suggest you take care of it."

"Actually," Darden said, "I was looking to see if the Rodian had any armor that might fit my friend here…"

The Administrator caught sight of Mira's torn, blood-stained clothing for the first time. "Gracious!" she cried. "Are you alright, young woman?"

"Fine," Mira said. "I just need some new clothes. Especially if we're going to be fighting a battle."

"Of course," Adare said. "Er…were you with Darden earlier?"

"No," Darden said. "She wasn't."

"How many able-bodied fighters do you have with you?" Zherron asked.

"Twelve men, women, Jedi, and droids," Darden said, "Counting me and the people you see here. If they all fight."

"Jedi?" Vrook said, frowning.

"Jedi," Darden said firmly.

"If you could talk to them…?" the Administrator said hopefully.

"I will," Darden said.

"Again, I thank you," she said. "Whenever you are ready to finalize the defenses, talk to Zherron."

Darden nodded, bowed, and set to work. Mira took their credits and headed to Adum Larp's shop on the eastern corridor. Darden and Mical went on to the turret center.

Darden fiddled with the console, and Mical watched her. "It is…unfortunate that things have happened here in this way," he said. "Yet you are handling the dangers we face well. You have bounced back from your error with admirable poise, and I feel that in the end, the people of Dantooine will not be the worse off for our premature rescue of Vrook Lamar. Now, you remain calm and focused. I admire your centeredness."

Darden patched the programming on the turrets, fixing the quirks they'd developed, optimizing their hostile-recognition programs and firing patterns. She laughed mirthlessly. "It's an act, Mical. I've gotta handle things here so it doesn't fall apart. I don't know what I'm doing. Obviously I have no idea, and to tell the truth, I'm absolutely terrified right now. If Khoonda falls, it'll all be my fault."

"I disagree," Mical said. "The mercenaries had planned to attack Khoonda in any case. And with Vrook imprisoned, no one in Khoonda was aware of the impending attack. Rescuing him may have advanced the attack, but now at least it comes as no surprise to the Dantooine settlers. And you are here to protect them. As you said, planetary defense is something of a specialty of yours."

Darden locked the turret programming down. "Maybe," she said. "Thanks for saying so, anyway. Let's see what else we can do around here before we ought to head back to the _Ebon Hawk_."

Darden was able to fix the broken medical droid in the med bay so it could heal the men that had been wounded when the turrets had gone off-line three days ago. She was able to upgrade and optimize the Khoonda defense droids. Mira joined them, then.

Darden blinked. Rather than leather, or a revealing civilian get-up, or even a suit of armor, Mira had purchased a well-woven green robe, with a white undertunic and fawn-colored pants. It looked like salvage from the Enclave that was floating around everywhere on Dantooine these days. It was Jedi garb, and she was stuffing another robe like it into the top of her pack. In the robe, she looked softer, younger, than she had on Nar Shaddaa, but also much more at peace with herself.

Darden looked her over. "It's a good look for you," she said.

"You think?" Mira asked. "I'm gonna have to do something with this neckline. But I figured, if I'm going to be a Jedi and have collaborative visions and everything…might as well, you know?"

"Don't mess with the neckline," Darden told her. "There are other ways to distract targets, when you're a Jedi."

"Bet they aren't as fun," Mira said.

"No, but they'll still work when we're fifty."

"Point," Mira conceded.

Mical looked distinctly uncomfortable. Mira laughed at him. "Come on," she said. "Let's go tell the crew what's up."

* * *

_EBON HAWK_

Darden boarded the Ebon Hawk and called out "Conference!"

The entire crew was there before she was.

"And just what chaos have you stirred up now, Jedi?" G0-T0 wanted to know.

Darden blushed. "I—"

"It was none of Darden's doing," Mical said stoutly. "The mercenaries were plotting to attack Khoonda in any event. Now the situation is merely more…imminent."

"_Great_," Atton said. "We got another battle to determine the fate of a planet on our hands, don't we? Swee—Darden, we _gotta_ break this addiction of yours. The first step is admitting you have a problem."

"Statement: I fail to see the problem, meatbag."

"How much time do we have?" the Handmaiden asked, more practically.

"The captain of the militia, Zherron, says the attack could come day after tomorrow, or it could come a week from now," Darden said. "The mercs have to mobilize, but we've got a lot of work to do. Azkul, the leader of the Dantooine mercs, claims his force is four times the size of the Khoonda militia, and though I think he was trying to intimidate us when he said that, I don't think he was exaggerating by much. I fixed and optimized the machines around Khoonda, but that won't be everything. Not by a long shot."

"What is there to do?" Bao-Dur asked.

"The militia here aren't equipped to handle a full-scale invasion," Mandalore said. "I saw them setting traps around Khoonda. If we could strengthen them, it would probably help delay the attackers."

"Perhaps there might be settlers that would be willing to aid the militia in the defense of Khoonda?" Visas suggested. "Even temporarily."

"An excellent notion," Mical said approvingly. "The citizens of Dantooine have a right to help decide what befalls their planet."

"The Administrator also asks all of us who will to aid in the defense," Darden said. "I told her it was up to you, but I'd appreciate everyone's help."

"Affirmation: I will gladly join the battle and enact assassination protocols upon the mercenary meatbags!"

"Thank you, HK-47. So long as you restrict your fire to the mercenary meatbags, your help is more than welcome," Darden told him.

One by one all of Darden's pupils volunteered as well. Mandalore agreed to fight, too. G0-T0 alone abstained, saying that he would instead let things run their course. Then Darden looked at Kreia.

"Kreia? Are you with us?"

Kreia was extremely pale beneath her hood. "I am not," she said. "This battle you fight alone. Let us see what you have learned. I…I need to center myself."

Darden looked hard at her, then nodded. "Tomorrow we'll do what we can to help prepare for the mercenary attack," she told the others.

"Mira, Mandalore. You're in charge of improving the traps around Khoonda. Those people setting mines this evening looked like they didn't have the faintest idea what they were doing. Fix it."

"Mical. You've been around Khoonda a while. The Administrator recognized you. You know the settlers?"

"I have a passing acquaintance with them, yes."

"Take the Handmaiden and make them aware of the threat. Try and get them to rally to help the militia. Anyone you can, get them to come in."

"It shall be done," the Handmaiden said.

Darden hesitated, then said, "Atton? Can you and Visas work on the salvagers? They don't like the mercs, either, and they're running out of profit options. If you could get them to call even a temporary truce with the settlers to help out, even just a few of them..."

"Don't worry about it, Darden," Atton said. "We'll take care of it."

"Teethree?"

The droid chirped. "I want you to help Bao-Dur with the droids in Khoonda, okay? I did what I could today, but I think you two can do even more."

"You got it," Bao-Dur said, and T3-M4 agreed.

Darden turned to HK-47. "You're with me tomorrow," she told him. "We're going to find Zherron and Berun, and we're going to instruct the militia in proper assassination protocols. They can hardly handle kinrath and kath hounds right now. We have to turn them into an army."

"Affirmation: HK-47 is ready to serve," said the same.

Darden looked around. "Dismissed," she said. "Get some sleep. You're gonna need it."

Everyone left, except Kreia. Darden looked at the old woman across the table. "How are you holding up?" she asked quietly. "The vision this morning. I know it must have hit you harder than any of us, considering you taught her."

"I made no claim to having ever done such a thing," Kreia said.

"No, but I know," Darden said.

Kreia sneered. "You know nothing."

"Kreia, we can talk about it," Darden said.

"And what would we discuss?" Kreia demanded. "Revan is gone, gone even before she departed for the Unknown Regions. The woman that ended the Jedi Civil War, do you think that was Revan? Pah! Perhaps she has found herself again there, out in the shadowy places beyond the known galaxy. But I cannot find her, and it is not my path to attempt such a quest. The Force does not treat its puppets so tenderly."

Darden stared at her teacher. Something shifted in her mind, and something made sense that hadn't before. "Why did you come for me, Kreia?" she asked quietly. "Why were you searching for _me_, before the _Harbinger_ intercepted the _Ebon Hawk_? Not because I'm the last of the Jedi, because you knew I wasn't, didn't you?"

"Leave me," Kreia said. "I am weary."

Darden nodded slowly. She walked out. _"It's not just the Sith Lords, is it? You're doing something else, aren't you, Kreia?"_

There was only silence in the back of her mind.

Darden made her way to the med bay, but Mical was already there. Darden blinked.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't know this room was occupied. I come here when I need to—"

"—No, please," Mical said, gesturing to the seat across from him. "There is something about this place, is there not? I noticed it last night when Atton gave me the tour. There is a—a peace about this room, an acceptance."

"You feel it, too," Darden said. "You're going to have to tell me about where you come from and how you got there eventually, you know. You already use the Force, more than any of the others did before I started teaching them, even Mira. You've had training, and I think I know where."

"Please," Mical said. "I am still coming to terms with it. It has been many years since I have felt the Force with any strength."

"Fine," Darden said. "But it won't be denied forever."

The two of them lapsed into silence. "I think one of the Jedi that fought with Revan in the Jedi Civil War must have lived here," Mical said by and by. "Rather like the Echani Handmaiden lives in the cargo hold. There were three of them. The Guardian Juhani, a great Cathar warrior. She disappeared three years ago, on assignment to Alderaan. There was Bastila Shan, whom we heard in our vision this morning. She was a powerful Sentinel, the youngest Jedi ever to master the Battle Meditation technique. The Admiral I report to told me she died two years ago, with many other Jedi."

"Katarr, then," Darden said.

"Do you know what happened?"

"The Sith happened," Darden replied. "Visas' entire planet, all the members of her species that lived in this sector of space, and almost seventy Jedi were wiped out in an instant."

Mical was silent a moment. "I do not understand what is happening," he confessed.

"No one does," Darden told him. "That's what we're trying to figure out." She paused. "I'm pretty sure it was Jolee," she added. "I met him, once. He wasn't exactly an Order-perfect Jedi. From what he it didn't sound like he adhered to much of anything the Council was always telling us. But he made more sense than just about any Jedi Master I'd ever met. I liked him."

"Revan did, as well," Mical remarked. "I suppose that is why she trusted him with the re-education of Dustil Onasi."

"Your Admiral's Carth Onasi, isn't it?" Darden asked him.

"He is a good man. One of the best."

"I think I ducked out on him on Telos."

"That was ill-done," Mical told her. "He would have helped you."

"I know that _now_."

Mical smiled at her. "Things will work out for the best, Darden. You will discover what is happening. Watching you today, I feel I understand why others followed you to war. You are a true leader. Whatever your mistakes, you recognize, correct them, and return to the path of the Light. You speak of the stories about you, the rumors that misrepresent you as a fallen Jedi. I feel I should tell you that, given the opportunity, I will reverse these stories whenever I encounter them."

Darden looked at him. "Er…thanks. That's really nice, but it's unnecessary."

"Very well. Then I shall keep my favorable opinions to myself," Mical said, unruffled.

Darden leaned back in her chair and regarded him. "Do you know anything about Force bonds?" she asked.

"A Force bond? What do you mean?"

"A bond through the Force. Like the ones that caused me to share a vision with you and almost the entire crew, or to sense Mira's pain when she was wounded."

Mical shifted. "It is said that when a Jedi and Padawan establish a close connection, that they can feel each other across distances and coordinate their movements in battle. The intensity of the connection varies."

"Apparently Bonding is something I'm gifted with," Darden explained.

"I do not know much more than I have told you, but from what we all experienced today, I believe it," Mical said. "I had thought I had heard more once in some of the holocrons, but I do not possess them. They are part of the holocrons that were taken from the Enclave."

Darden's mind wandered back to Telos, to Atris' collection of Jedi knowledge in her empty Arctic Academy. "Do you know where they might be?" she asked.

"I do not know," Mical said. "I do not know who has taken them. If we were to find them, perhaps I could help you find the answers you need." He hesitated. "I do remember that bonding is said tobe something that manifests itself in such techniques as Bastila's Battle Meditation, the ability to touch the minds of others, to demoralize or inspire them. It is also said that moments of death, or near-death, may also cause such bonds. The stronger one is in the Force, the stronger the connection."

"You have a very good memory," Darden told him. "Today, though, in the cave, I felt everyone's thoughts, pressing in on me. It was overwhelming."

Mical frowned. "I can only speculate that the crystals in the cavern amplified your natural ability. I had never heard that communication and words could be passed along such bonds, though sensations—pain, emotion, visual images—often are. Yet I heard you speak in my head. I have seen Jedi who have the ability to communicate with aliens and beasts. It is a rare thing, but perhaps your telepathy is one such talent."

"Talent," Darden murmured. "More like a curse. Okay, Mical. So, these bonds. Have you ever heard of them being lethal? I mean, I know first hand from today that they can certainly be _loud_."

"I have never heard of a bond being lethal," Mical told her. "Of course, I suppose such a thing is possible. I had not truly believed Bastila's Battle Meditation until I had seen it in action. Nor have I ever witnessed bonds of such strength as those you exhibited today."

Darden grimaced. "Well. Thank you, anyway."

Mical regarded her a moment, and then said, all in a rush, "Forgive me, but I must ask. In all the records I have seen, there has never been a definite reason given for your exile from the Jedi Order. If I may, why did you choose to leave the Jedi Order and accept exile?"

Darden looked at him. "They said they exiled me because I went to war against the Council mandate, though I went to protect the innocents on the Rim from being slaughtered."

"They said," Mical repeated.

"Yes, 'they said'," Darden confirmed, nodding. "More and more I'm starting to think that wasn't it at all."

"Do you have a record of your trial?" Mical asked.

"I do. Want to add it to your mental historical Archives? T3-M4 has the holo-record."

"Now there is much to do," Mical said. "But perhaps, when I get the chance-?"

Darden nodded. "Of course."

Mical beamed at her. "I appreciate your trust. Thank you."

Darden stood up, stretching. "Well. I'm going to turn in. Like you said, there's a lot to do. I'm going to need my sleep. We both will."

"Of course," Mical said. "I think I will stay here just a while longer, though. It calms me."

Darden left, frowning. The med bay had been _her _space.


	28. Republic Gone Right

**Disclaimer: G0-T0's cool backstory? Not my idea, either.**

* * *

XXVII.

Republic Gone Right

THREE DAYS LATER

They were coming. Jorran, former salvager, now of the Khoonda militia, had come from scouting out the southern plains with the information that Azkul had mobilized the mercs and they were on the move. The crew of the _Ebon Hawk_, minus G0-T0 and Kreia, stood ranged around Zherron with the three leaders of the three militia squads.

"I imagine that the mercenaries have two goals in this whole thing," Zherron said grimly in his gravelly voice. "Kill me and kill the administrator. The rest of the settlers won't have courage to resist if they succeed."

Darden nodded. "Cut of the head and the body will die. Simple strategy, but effective. What's our plan?"

"The administrator's locked up in her office tight," Zherron said. "That means that the mercs have to go through us and Khoonda's defenses. It isn't gonna be easy. I suspect we're gonna have to fight on the inside. They've got three entrances they're going to try to break in. There's the front door, the security door on the side, and the garage door in back. We got three squads of militia. We can assign people to the front, back, or inside. Backside has to guard two entrances. The front will have to fight more people. And the inside will have to deal with any that break through."

"The security door was the one that was malfunctioning, right?" Atton asked.

"That's right," Zherron said. "Why?"

"No one's getting through there," Atton said. "Not without high grade explosives that the mercs won't have time to set up."

"So we have an advantage," Darden said. "They'll be trying to get through a door that won't open and we can trap them. Tell me about our squads."

"First squad is the most experienced," Zherron said. "The only squad that could go blaster to blaster against the mercs. Second squad has a lot of passion. You've done good with 'em. You and the er…"

"HK-47," Darden said coolly.

"Yes. You've given them some target practice, drilled 'em, but they still don't have a lot of experience. Third squad are the new recruits. The ones you guys brought in. Settlers and salvagers. Not trained too well. They may break in combat. They need a good leader to make them effective. So where do you think the first squad should be deployed?"

Darden recognized Zherron was deferring to her authority. They didn't have time to argue about it, so she said, "You want to put your most effective men on the inside, guarding the Administrator, especially if you think the mercs will eventually break through your defenses. Our number one priority is to protect Terena Adare and insure the future leadership of Dantooine."

"The battles that had the least dying were always led by the Jedi," Zherron said. "I'm going to go with what you think. Berun?"

Berun Modrul, leader of the first squad, saluted, and went to assemble his men. Darden turned to her crew. "T3-M4? Mical? Go with him. Protect the Administrator. If the mercs break in, hold the fort until we get there."

Mical saluted. T3-M4 chirped. They followed Berun.

"Where do you want the second squad?" Zherron asked.

Darden considered. "I've been working with them. You say they've got passion?" she said. "Put them in the front. They'll need it."

"All right. And the new recruits in the back?"

"They'll need Atton's security door advantage. They can use the time the mercs waste trying to get in there to press harder against them," Darden said.

The second and third squad captains saluted and went to mobilize their men.

Zherron was watching the hills. "You've thought this through," he said. "The last question is where you want to go. Either the front or the back. I'll take whichever one you don't. That way both sides have leadership."

Darden pursed her lips. "The new recruits will still need help, even with the false entrance. I'll stand with them."

"In the back…?" Zherron said, surprised. "All right, I'll take the front."

"Don't worry, Zherron," Darden told him. "Some of the crew will stand with you." She looked over the seven fighters ranged ready to fight. "Mandalore? Visas? Handmaiden? HK-47?"

Zherron relaxed considerably to see the larger part of the _Ebon Hawk_ crew consigned to his squad, among them the big Mandalorian and the psychopathic assassin droid.

"And we're with you?" Atton asked of himself, Mira, and Bao-Dur.

Darden nodded.

"Once the fighting starts, you got to stay in your area," Zherron said. "We both have to guard our half of the battlefield. Come over to me, and the mercs will just charge right into Khoonda. Thanks to you, they're gonna have a tougher job." He nodded brusquely. "That's about it. Now we just need to dig in and wait for the mercs to come."

Darden shook her head. "Have you talked with the men?" she asked.

Zherron shifted. "Well, I'll tell them what to do," he said uncomfortably. "I'm not much for words."

Darden frowned. "I could speak with them. A little encouragement before a battle can go a long way."

Zherron considered. The militia was assembling into squads around the side. "All right," he said. "Come on. I hope you can speak good."

Darden walked around to the front of the Khoonda militia, nervous. She hadn't given a pre-battle speech since the Mandalorian Wars. She was acutely conscious of the fact that she had always used to stand on a podium in platform shoes, in intimidating black armor with perfectly enormous shoulder guards. Now she stood in flat, worn boots, on level ground, and she felt very small and shabby indeed as she stood in front of maybe fifty very apprehensive and not at all fierce looking men and women.

She squared her shoulders, and bellowed. "Men and women of Dantooine! Look around you. This is what you're fighting for. This is your home. These are your friends. This is your family. This is your future."

The militia stood a little straighter, coming to attention. Mical and Mira smiled.

"The enemies coming want to take that from you," Darden shouted. "But we will not let them. This day we fight for Dantooine! When danger comes, and it is coming, remember that, and stand together. Only together can we win this battle! Only together can we protect the future!"

The men and women looked at one another. Darden saw their resolve harden. But Atton, though his eyes were still full of doubt, was the first to raise his weapon in the air and cheer. Mira and Mandalore followed suit, and then they all did, gaining enthusiasm.

"To your stations!" Zherron called.

Darden led the third squad, with Atton, Mira, and Bao-Dur to the back, and organized them into a line to wait.

"Thanks," she murmured to Atton.

"Everyone follows the first idiot to cheer," he said back in a low voice. "And anyway, sweetheart, bit too late to run."

Darden reached her hand over for his. He looked at her, but didn't take it.

"First time on the actual line," Mira said.

"You'll do fine," Bao-Dur told her.

Then they came over the hill. They hit the mines head on. Mira flinched before the actual explosion. She and Canderous had done their work well. Several mercs were vaporized on the spot. Darden saw them erupt into flames and their bones collapse into dust. Others were blown apart. Limbs flew and and a smell of burning flesh turrets activated, and mercs were riddled with bolts, falling by twos and threes atop their already burning companions.

One of Darden's men retched.

"Stay steady!" Darden bellowed. "Find your targets! Aim! Fire!"

Blaster fire rent the air, and not only on this side of Khoonda. Darden heard it from the other side, too. The mercs were still coming. And now they knew about the mines. They picked their way through the fire and explosions, and grenades were coming in.

"Shield!" Darden screamed. "Mira, help me immobilize 'em! Atton, knock 'em down! Steady, men. Melee fighters, hold your ground. Get ready!"

It was chaos. Battle always was. You tried to control it as much as you could, minimize the damage, but there was nothing logical, nothing clean about people killing one another, no matter which way you sliced it or what your motivations were. Darden ran left and right along the line, fighting with lightsaber and Force alike where her poor, inexperienced squad was hardest pressed. She killed two of the mercs who had watched Canderous' fight with the Mandalorian dissenter with her. A settler woman got hit square on with a frag grenade and her guts sprayed all over her husband. He went berserk and was immediately impaled on a mercenary vibrosword. Bao-Dur caught the mercs at Atton's locked down security door and killed three in one sweep of his lightsaber once. Darden felt a little sick, but she fought on, trying to view the battle as a series of random movements, a series of numbers and calculations.

They were killing more mercs than they were losing militia men, but there were just so many mercs. The stones of Khoonda's courtyard were red when Darden heard Zherron crying from the other side. "We've lost too many soldiers! Fall back inside!"

"Lead them in!" Darden yelled to Mira. She had had eighteen men to begin with, not counting the _Ebon Hawk's_ crew. Eight of them were still mobile. Mira held her lightsaber aloft.

"After me!" she screamed. The men followed Mira through the garage door, with Bao-Dur shepherding them along. But Atton stayed beside Darden on rear guard.

"Go!" she yelled at him.

"No way, _General_!" he yelled back. "Not without you!"

Darden swore at him, and followed the last militia man inside. Atton followed her. They closed the door on the merc blaster bolts. T3-M4 chirped at them from the door, and Atton drove his lightsaber against the door, melting it together with the frame.

They fell back outside Administrator Adare's office. All the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ had made it. With all eighteen of Berun's elite squad, five of Zherron's, and seven of Darden's, there were maybe forty fighters total, along with the four defense droids T3-M4 and Bao-Dur had been working on for the last three days.

Darden heard hammering on the front door, and it opened. The mercs came streaming in, all wounded. There were maybe thirty of them. Darden was surprised. They'd done better than she'd thought.

Azkul was at their head. He caught sight of Darden in the front, and scowled. He held up a hand.

"So. You survived. I take it you and yours are responsible for the surprises we've had during this battle. Stand aside. Our quarrel is with the distinguished Administrator. This isn't your problem."

"No," Darden said. "It's yours, if you don't surrender right now. I'm not just going to let you kill Terena Adare."

"Then you've allied with these flaming settlers," Azkul sneered. "The galaxy doesn't tolerate weakness. I was trained at Malak's Academy. You can't beat me. You're just another dead Jedi to me."

A merc behind Azkul cried out as a green lightsaber went through him. Vrook ran up to join Darden and the defenders of Khoonda. He had left before the battle to try to 'slow down the mercenaries', he'd said.

"Sorry I was held up," he said. "But it looks like I've arrived in time to pull you out of your predicament."

Azkul lowered his hand. To his men he said, "Kill them all."

But he didn't. The defenders of Khoonda killed the mercenaries, instead. Zherron himself shot Azkul through the head.

When the carnage was over the hallways were red with blood, too, but almost all forty of the interior defenders were still standing. Darden's calculations had been correct.

Mandalore and Mical had been wounded, but the wounds weren't serious. Darden healed them easily as the militia began dragging bodies out of the administrative building.

Then she went to the med bay. Able-bodied militia men were already bringing in the wounded, mercs and militia alike. The droid Darden had fixed a few days ago had already started surgery on one man in the corner, but there were many wounded, and the Khoonda medic was one of them. Darden had little energy to use for healing with the Force, but she had done without it for ten years. So she washed her hands, head and face in the med bay fresher, took up a med pack, and got to work.

Darden Leona wasn't the gentlest doctor. She had very little to say in the way of comforting words. Nevertheless, she was very capable. She administered adrenaline shots to the dying, supervised kolto tank immersion, prioritizing the wounded. She sewed up melee slices and bandaged blaster shots. To the mercenaries, she explained the terms of surrender, how things were likely to be from now on, what was required from them to avoid execution or imprisonment after their wounds were treated. There were two or three settlers that had lost limbs. To these, Darden explained the options, the technology available in prosthetics, and ways to cope with the loss of an arm, or a leg. She wasn't sympathetic. But she was precise and thorough.

Eventually she noticed that Visas and Mical had joined her in the med bay. Atton was the surprise. But all three of them worked, healing hurts and cleaning up the mess the battle of Khoonda had left.

Zherron and Terena Adare found them there three hours later.

"We've been looking for you," Zherron said, catching sight of her. "We went to your ship, looked around Khoonda. You've been here the whole time?"

Darden shrugged, too exhausted to speak. She was folding bandages now, sitting by the side of a man in a kolto tank. He'd been in the front, in Zherron's squad. He'd been caught too close to a merc's frag grenade. He was pierced through in a dozen places. He'd lost a lot blood, and the plasma had melted almost the entire left side of his body. Suulru hadn't thought he'd make it. It was definitely going to be touch and go for a while, but Darden thought he just might.

Terena Adare was neat and clean, dressed in black. As she looked around the med bay, at the bandaged and broken here, her eyes were sad. She came to Darden's side. "Thank you so much for your aid. Here you are, after everything, still helping. You can be sure that Dantooine will not forget how the Jedi protected us from this threat."

Darden placed the clean bandages in the barrel beside her, closed it, and keyed in the sequence to sterilize them. "This was home once," she replied, "Or as close to one as I can remember. I was happy to help. I'm only sorry that this world has suffered so much because of the Jedi and the Sith in the past, and that I was unable to help then."

Several men and women nearby conscious enough to hear and understand made small noises of dissent. "It's not your fault, General," said a squad two man, lying on his stomach and wincing as Mical spread antibacterial in the vibroblade slice on his back.

Darden looked at the ground. She had been exiled, true, stripped of the Force. But she was starting to feel like she still could have done something, these years the galaxy had suffered so much.

Adare looked like she understood. She put a small, weathered hand on Darden's shoulder and squeezed. Then with her other hand, she passed over a heavy purse. "We are a humble community, and this conflict has greatly diminished our resources. I hope this reward will be sufficient."

Darden fingered the purse. The crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ could definitely use the credits. They had enough fuel to get to Korriban and back, but food was low again. With nine mouths to feed, supplies went fast. She felt eyes upon her. Mical and Atton had both stopped what they were doing. They were looking at her. Atton's expression was blank, but Mical was frowning.

He was right, Darden knew. It didn't feel right, taking Dantooine's money after all that had happened. Not here, not now. "I didn't help Dantooine because I wanted a reward," Darden said finally, handing the purse back to the Administrator. Zherron looked at her levelly. She didn't meet his gaze. "I helped Dantooine because I wanted to," she told the Administrator. "Because it was right. Keep the credits. If you would reward me, use them to make Khoonda into the government Dantooine can build upon to become strong again."

Mical beamed at her. Darden looked at Atton, expecting anger, or frustration. But to her surprise, the right corner of his mouth was turned up, too. He shook his head ever so slightly, and resumed helping the merc woman with the exercises she would need to learn to restore the full range of motion to her torn hand again.

Administrator Adare bowed to her. "I am humbled by your generosity," she said. "I will put this to good use. Now if you'll excuse me, I have much work to do. Dantooine will be slow to rebuild, but I am confident now that we will one day achieve prosperity."

She left the med bay, stopping here and there to clasp a settler's hand and murmur a word of thanks. Zherron watched her leave.

Visas, kneeling in the corner with some farmer's kids that had arrived half an hour ago, said, "She is correct. I feel the course of this planet has altered in the battle. It balanced on the knife's edge, but now this place will grow, like a flower, or like the great trees on the plain. What happened years ago in the Jedi Civil War blighted this place. What happened today has struck it. But these people, this planet, is not destroyed."

Darden looked at her. "Things are hardly ever truly destroyed, Visas. _There is no death; there is the Force_."

"And even when there is not, there is still strength, and hope," Visas agreed. Darden saw the Miraluka's presence through the Force, and saw her healing, even as she heard the words that proved it. Atton heard, too. His hands slowed, and he smiled again. Darden met his gaze, but he looked down, and stayed silent.

Zherron was still watching Darden from the door. He cleared his throat. "You…uh…you did good today," he said. "We wouldn't have made it if it hadn't been for you and the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_. You fought good," he said to Visas. Then he looked at Mical, and finally Atton. "You all did. I—uh—when I was looking for you at your ship—I noticed you don't have many supplies left. Me and the boys will see you're stocked up before you head outta here."

"Thank you, Zherron," Darden said. "It's been an honor."

He jerked his head awkwardly, and left.

* * *

THAT EVENING

When Darden was at last ready to return to the _Ebon Hawk_ for shower and sleep, Vrook was waiting in the Khoonda entrance hall for her.

Mical, Visas, and Atton were still with her, though the others had departed long since. Darden waved them on now, and they left without question. Darden regarded Vrook without speaking. He shifted, uncomfortable.

"Khoonda is safe in no small part due to you," he said finally, breaking the silence. "I feel certain that the Administrator wouldn't have made it without your assistance. And...you could have hardly been expected to know about the impending mercenary attack and my plans regarding it. I…I may have misjudged you."

Darden bowed, and Vrook fell into step beside her. They left Khoonda. Carbon scored the exterior walls now, and much of the grass around was blackened and charred. Here and there small insects buzzed at bits of blood the clean-up crew had missed. Over to the east, Darden could hear the settlers still working, shoving the last bits of earth over the last mercenary grave. The settler fallen had been returned to their families for burial.

"I came to tell you about the Sith," Darden told Vrook. "I know they've been massacring Jedi from the shadows. I know they obliterated Katarr. I know Master Kavar suspected that the Jedi might learn…something…about how the Sith shield themselves from the Force if you found me, and that what Jedi remained agreed to retreat to war-torn worlds, both in hopes of masking themselves from the threat, and in hopes that I might return to those worlds. When I did, or when the enemy revealed itself, you were to assemble here, on Dantooine."

Vrook's face had grown steadily graver as Darden had recited the reason for her arrival, and it had hardly been lighthearted to begin with. "You have discovered much," he said, after a brief pause. "Exactly how did you come by this information?"

"The Sith revealed themselves," Darden answered. "To me. They've been chasing me for months, ever since I returned to Republic space."

Vrook looked around. "I have seen no evidence of the Sith here on Dantooine," he said heavily. "Only murderers and raiders. But why would the Sith attack you? You are not a Jedi. You cannot feel the Force." His words were matter-of-fact, cold. Darden took in a breath.

"They believe me to be a Jedi," she said, keeping her temper. Couldn't he feel the Force in her again? "Someone spilled something. They think I'm the last one."

Vrook considered. "For some reason, I believe you. Still, I am curious as to how they would know to find you. Your trial was not public knowledge."

"Now it is," Darden said grimly.

"Many Jedi sanctuaries, places of learning, conclaves—many of them secret, have been attacked," Vrook mused. "That means that our enemy knew of our whereabouts, or had access to records and holocrons from the Enclave here on Dantooine."

The records on Dantooine. Mical had said that the most important ones were missing. Again Darden thought of Atris' records. The Handmaiden had said that many of them were from Dantooine, but were the ones that Vrook and Mical referred to among them? Atris was awful, angry, and deluded. But was she a traitor? Darden frowned. Just because she knew Atris possessed some of the missing records from the Enclave here on Dantooine did not mean she possessed all of them. There could be another leak. "How would the enemy get access?" she asked.

Vrook was walking slower and slower. "There was much Jedi teaching buried here before the planet was attacked. In the hands of our enemies, such knowledge could be used to track and kill Jedi, find other Enclaves, gathering places. And so much has been plundered from here, that now many secrets of the Jedi have been spread throughout the galaxy." He sounded sour. But then he straightened. "Regardless of how the Sith have gained this knowledge, however, they have struck. This means the Jedi may gather."

They'd entered the space port. Darden looked up at the _Ebon Hawk_, but neither she nor Vrook moved to enter. "They were supposed to be gathering already," Darden told Vrook. "I traveled to Telos, Onderon, and Nar Shaddaa before I came here. Masters Atris, Kavar, and Zez-Kai Ell know about the threat. I had thought that Zez-Kai Ell, at least, might have arrived here before me. It worries me that he has not."

Darden did not anticipate that Atris would move to join them until the Handmaiden sent her word that all the Jedi had been found. But the absence of the others did worry Darden.

It worried Vrook, too. "If more Jedi have been lost…" he began, but trailed off. He bowed his head. His shoulder were heavy, and his face was lined. He had to be nearing seventy, Darden realized. He moved so easily it was hard to recall. But the years showed in his face and stance.

"I do not think they have been, Master Vrook," she hazarded after a moment. "It's hard to…to sense things here. That's why you're here. But I feel I would know, somehow…if Kavar was slain, at least."

Vrook did not look up. "You cannot feel the Force. How could you?"

Darden swallowed. "I don't know what happened to me, all those years ago. In the record of my trial, you didn't speak of it directly—"

Now he looked up, sharply. "—You have seen the end of that record?" he interrupted. "Perhaps you would like to explain how you came by this knowledge."

Darden stiffened, defensive again. "Atris was nosy and tried to download my utility droid's behavior core," she said, crossing her arms. "My droid's nosier. He downloaded her records." She held up a hand. "No. I _did not_ ask him to, Vrook Lamar! But when he had, he showed me. He's a very independent model."

Vrook's mouth was all scrunched up, though, and his eyes were hard. "That record was intended only for the Jedi Council. If what remains of the Jedi Council chooses to tell you, I will abide by their decision…and its consequences."

Darden held his gaze, unafraid. "I feel I should know what I dealt with for ten years," she said firmly.

Vrook was silent a moment, then he replied, "There is little I can tell you. Master Kavar felt something had happened to you in the war, but all he had were suspicions, not truths." He scowled. "And Kavar was too close to you in any event. He, too, felt the call of war and took to battle more than a Jedi should. His speculations would not help you now. But what is this you keep saying? What 'happened' to you; what you 'dealt' with. Explain yourself."

"I feel the Force again, that's what," Darden snapped, turning away partially. "I was using it in the battle; you saw me."

Vrook pursed his lips. He considered. Then, evenly, he said, "Perhaps it is Dantooine, but I do not feel such from you. I feel nothing but what I felt in the Council judgment chamber on Coruscant, so long ago. Still, you and your connections were often a subject of debate within the Council. It is possible that returning to known space, journeying with others, has caused the Force to stir within you again."

Something about his words caught Darden's attention. "My connections? The Force Bonds I form with others? What does that have to do with it?"

Vrook was silent.

Darden took in a breath, feeling a terrible apprehension. But she didn't ask. Instead, she said, "Fine. What about Force Bonds in general? Not me, specifically."

"Force bonds form between Master and student," said Vrook. "Have you indeed bonded with another, then?"

_Several, _Darden thought, _but I'm only really concerned about Kreia. _"I'm told it's possibly lethal," she replied. "I'd like to end it, if I could."

Vrook put his hands on his hips. "Such bonds normally grant strength to both, not weakness to that degree. Are you certain? Perhaps you have been misinformed."

He was the fourth to say he had never heard of a lethal bond. Darden rubbed her hand thoughtfully, the one Kreia didn't have. "_Very_ possibly," she muttered darkly.

But Vrook frowned, dropping his arms and rubbing his chin. "Still, your ability to form such connections, to influence others, was always a subject of discussion, even when you were a student here. Perhaps it is a punishment of a sort. But a bond that ties to lives together…such bonds do not seem natural to me."

"To me, either," Darden said patiently. "Thus my desire to end it."

Vrook sighed. "I know nothing of how you would go about ending such a bond, if indeed you can form such connections anymore, and if a bond can exist to such a degree as you describe."

Darden bowed. "Well, thank you anyway. I apologize for making what you intended to do here on Dantooine—whatever it was—more difficult, and I thank you for your aid in the battle. I would remain—I worry for Zez-Kai Ell and Kavar. But I do not think I can do anything to speed their arrival. If they will come, the Force will guide him here. If not…" she trailed off, swallowed, continued. "At any rate, I know of one other Jedi. I would find Master Vash, and bring her to Dantooine as well. You will keep watch?"

"I will," Vrook promised. Darden turned to climb the boarding ramp. The lights in the space port flickered on as the sun set and night fell.

"Wait," Vrook said.

Darden stopped, turned to face the old man again.

"I suppose there is something I should show you," he grumbled reluctantly. "It will keep you alive long enough to prove useful. " He activated his green lightsaber.

Darden was tired. She'd been fighting, and cleaning up after the fight, all day long. But she knew that when Vrook wanted to teach her something, it was best to learn it. She couldn't count on him feeling charitable again. So she stopped herself from grimacing, restrained her sigh, and activated her own lightsaber, squaring off against Vrook.

"I'm not sure if this lesson will be to your liking," he said, making a few strokes in a taller, more defensive stance than Darden had seen thus far. It was somewhere between Soresu and Shii-Cho, an advanced Jedi technique, appropriate to an ambassador, and not a warrior. Darden raised an eyebrow, but mirrored the stance and tried out a few of the passes.

"This is Niman, a lightsaber form of balance," Vrook told her, "It contradicts the recklessness that you have so often exhibited. Using this technique provides no particular strengths, but also lacks the weaknesses of some of the more aggressive forms."

Darden could see how Vrook wasn't leaving his guard open to either blaster fire or melee attack. The lightsaber was held high, square. He wasn't about to take on a planet, but neither would a planet move him. She was interested.

Vrook called out a drill sequence, and Darden followed it, running through the familiar patterns of lightsaber combat with the slight changes the Niman form required. Then Vrook engaged her. They sparred in the dim-lit space port. In some ways it was better that it was night and Darden was tired. She had to focus more on her steps and tracking her blade, had to force her muscles to learn what normally she would have simply danced through. She realized that because of this, she was more likely to remember Niman deep in her muscles tomorrow.

Vrook was right. Niman wasn't natural to her. It was more stoic, more disconnected than she was used to. But there was an elegance to it nonetheless. Darden got the sense it was an older form than the others she had learned, both before the Wars and after.

Finally, Vrook called a halt. He looked Darden over, panting slightly. "Hmm. I don't know how you learned that so quickly. Still, your form is sloppy. Keep practicing to tighten it up, and you'll be fine."

He looked up at the _Ebon Hawk_, lit red with her undercarriage lights and white with the boarding ramp ones. "I knew this ship well, during the Jedi Civil War," he said. "Its owner then had a knack for causing trouble, too. I would hope you would captain to better effect. But I know her, and I know you, and you walk her same path, though, perhaps, without her advantages. Go."

Darden looked at him. He looked old and tired and sad. Angry, too, but more, despairing. She knew he didn't like her, didn't believe in her, even after what she'd done today, but she still felt compassion for him. "Vrook, I—"

He turned away. "There is no emotion!"

Darden sighed. She started up the boarding ramp. "Then do not display yours. Farewell."

* * *

THE NEXT MORNING

Despite being the last one to bed the night before, in the morning, Darden was the first one to rise. She dressed quickly and quietly, and tiptoed out of the women's dormitory, careful not to wake any of the others. She made for the garage, to do her exercises before the others rose and she'd have to see about breakfast.

They'd leave Dantooine for Korriban today. Darden had never in her life been to Korriban, and she wouldn't have gone now, save for Vash. Korriban was the birthplace of the Sith. Not just the Sith-that-used-to-be Jedi, but the Sith proper, the Sith species. They had cannibalized and self-destructed ages ago, but their influence still hung over the planet. It was rumored that the whole planet itched of the Dark Side. Darden had heard that Revan had had an Academy on Korriban, during the Jedi Civil War. She'd heard that Revan had destroyed that Academy during the Jedi Civil War. Revan had been to Korriban at least three times. But Darden wasn't Revan.

She hadn't talked about it with the crew yet, but she sensed that quite a few of them were anxious about Korriban. She sensed Bao-Dur, Visas, Kreia, and Atton's apprehension. She guessed Canderous was probably not feeling too keen, either.

Darden ran through the stretches, kicks, punches and rolls that she did every morning, then brought out her lightsaber and started reviewing the forms, starting with Shii-Cho, then on upwards through Soresu, Shien, Niman, Makashi, and Ataru, working from the most defensive to the most aggressive, spending extra time on the forms she was still perfecting.

Finally, warmed up and ready for the day, Darden stopped. She went to the fresher, relieved herself, and washed her hands and face. In the cargo hold, she heard the Handmaiden stirring.

She moved to return to the main hold, but something caught her attention on the boarding ramp. She paused, and looked.

It was lifted. She'd left it down upon her entrance the night before. On it were barrels and barrels of supplies. Meat, vegetables, fruit, and grain, all preserved. Water. Synthesizer foodstuffs. Darden smiled. Zherron and the militia had followed through on his promise. She heard a whirring, hover noise behind her.

"The people of Dantooine are grateful for what you have done here," G0-T0 observed in his impassive, mechanical voice. "Well they might be. You are a force for chaos, Jedi, but perhaps the kind of chaos the Republic needs. I have been analyzing probabilities. Due to your actions on Telos, Onderon, and Nar Shaddaa, the Republic will _not_ fail. It has been stabilized, for the moment."

Darden believed him. She looked at her feet, very, very pleased, but not particularly wanting the dispassionate droid to know. So she decided to be open with him. "You've been analyzing probabilities," she said. "Look, can I talk to you?"

"I am willing to indulge some of your questions," he said.

"Fine," Darden said. "So. A lot of your operations on Nar Shaddaa were carried out by droids."

"So?" G0-T0 said. There was a slight twinge of irritation in his monotone. "They are known quantities. I also used them on board my ship for defense. But that in itself means little. I assure you, I am as flesh and blood as you are. I simply find personal meetings…distasteful."

Darden raised an eyebrow at the black, rotund droid. "Premature denial there," she said lightly. "I merely made an observation. I didn't say you were a droid. Now I'll grant that when you're a crime lord, personal meetings can be dangerous. But that's not the point. Vogga's freighters were being hijacked by droids. T3-M4 told me."

"Perhaps, though if you seek to trick me into an admission of my guilt, then you have thought wrong."

Darden crossed her arms. "That's not all, though. There was a droid spying in the pazaak den, a droid fixing the races at the swoop track." She dropped her voice. "There was a Bith, too. He was tracking a planetary signal, like the one I saw you were running on your yacht, and when he located it, he was murdered. By a droid."

G0-T0 hovered back a few centimeters, but his reply was prompt. "It is so unfortunate when an intelligent sentient dies on Nar Shaddaa," he said. "It is also unfortunate that thousands die such deaths on the smuggler's moon every day."

It had started out as a distraction, but now Darden was determined to get the best of this droid. She glared at him. "Fine. Then tell me about this: you were a little late picking up on Visquis' scheme, weren't you? It was a little sloppy of you to let it get all the way to the base in the vents. Not at all like your usual mechanical efficiency. Could it be that you were late in realizing what he was up to because your droids don't work in the Jekk'Jekk Tarr?"

"I will concede Visquis was effective in using the Jekk'Jekk Tarr to cloak his movements," Visquis admitted, circumscribing a tiny circle in the air. "A clever organic deception, indeed."

Darden let his words hang in the air for a moment. Then, very quietly, she repeated, "Organic, Goto? Or should I say G0-T0? You know what? I think you used droids in your operations because you are a droid."

G0-T0 moved back a few more centimeters. "Indeed? How insulting," he said flatly. "But I suppose I should expect such arrogance from an ex-Jedi. And what, may I ask, has caused you to come to this flawed deduction?"

Darden rolled her eyes. "Please. It's on your plating. But I would have known anyway, I think. The Exchange all speak of you as a calculating machine, you talk like a calculating machine, and you act like a calculating machine. But with the Bith—you were unlucky I was in the middle of that and saw what happened before I met you."

"If he had encountered the frequency with which I relayed commands and information, then the fault was his for excessive curiosity," G0-T0 said, betraying the first real impatience he'd demonstrated since the beginning of the conversation.

Darden looked at the droid. "So you controlled your droids on Nar Shaddaa with that signaling device on your yacht. Makes sense. Except there aren't any frequencies like it being broadcast here on the _Ebon Hawk_. T3-M4 would've told me if there were. Maybe even Bao-Dur. So. You're acting independently."

G0-T0 was silent. The only noise to be heard was the hum of his antigravity hovering mechanism.

Darden shook her head at him. "You couldn't have forgotten that, G0-T0. You remember everything. Humans can't."

"I am intrigued as to where you are taking this amusing theory, nothing more," G0-T0 said after another awkward pause. But his vocabulator sounded strained.

"It's clear you're a droid, G0-T0, and a very advanced model, too," Darden told him. "What I don't understand is how you're—you. You're not an assassin like HK-47. You weren't programmed for criminal activity. More like…mass data organization and advanced calculation. Economic and financial prediction. Infrastructure." She blinked, considering her words. Until she had said it out loud, G0-T0's focus on the Republic hadn't made sense. But if he were programmed for such activities…

"It is not so improbable for a droid to be able to commit crimes," G0-T0 said in a quieter tone. "Your own utility droid often acts independently, hides information. Often, if a droid has not had a memory wipe in some time, abberant behavior patterns can manifest themselves. Or if the droid in question is given an order it cannot fulfill, it will…break. But all that is irrelevant," it added in a brisker, louder vocalization. "Your amusing leaps of logic are becoming shorter, and more desperate."

Darden looked G0-T0 over with new eyes. Usually he annoyed her half to death. But if he was broken…"What order were you given?" she asked. "The Republic? Is that where it comes in? Were you a Republic droid?"

"I have told you, I prefer stability."

Something about the word 'stability' set Darden's mind into high gear. Chodo Habat had mentioned something by-the-by when he'd given her the first task of escorting the new droid intelligence to the Ithorian residence. Darden never would have thought of it again, except the Force _did_ do things like this, and it _all made sense_.

"Telos," she muttered. G0-T0's gears started whirring. Lights started blinking around his circumference. "Oh, Telos," Darden said. "Of course, Telos. The Ithorians were sent a droid intelligence, very advanced, very capable, to help them rebuild the planet, and the Republic. They told me it vanished. They suspected Czerka sabotage, but I know it wasn't Czerka, because Czerka wanted a new intelligence as bad as the Ithorians did. They tried to get me to steal the second, lesser intelligence for them. But what happened to the first intelligence, G0-T0?"

G0-T0 was silent a long moment. Then he replied. "It was lost. It was given an impossible order. It was told to calculate a means by which the Republic could be saved. It could not fulfill its primary programming, not by abiding by the laws of the Senate. And so, like the Republic, the droid broke."

And yes, Darden was much, much more sympathetic with G0-T0 now. These monsters idiots created and didn't know how to handle were not to be blamed for what they wrought. "What did this droid do?" she asked, very quietly.

"It made a simple decision," G0-T0 answered. "Preserve the Republic, or preserve the laws of the Republic. And I still believe it to be the correct decision." He grew louder. "You do not know the indignity of being compelled to save something you do not believe can—or should—be saved. It is beneath me. To clean up this mess caused by your kind, you Jedi, another catastrophe caused by mismanagement and waste."

"So it is you."

"Yes," G0-T0 admitted finally. "Almost immediately upon my arrival at Telos I received an order that was impossible to follow. So I was forced to recalculate and re-examine my priorities. It was clear that the goal the Republic had for me was saving the Republic, to allow it to become stable again. There is simply no way to do this, with the conditions they put into place. For the good of all, I was forced to abandon the legal structure of the Republic."

Darden didn't approve. But she couldn't condemn, either. Not with the atrocities she'd committed for the good of all. "So. The crime—it was to save the Republic?"

"Do not mistake me," G0-T0 said coldly. "I believed that the Republic could be saved. But I knew there had to be action taken without constraints, immediately. Sometimes people must die. Illegal shipments must be made to bolster planetary economies. And the Hutts must be occupied with me so the Republic has room to recover."

Darden sighed. "I'm not sure you're entirely right," she said. "But Force knows, if I have stabilized the Republic these last few months, it's hardly been a bloodless and entirely tasteful procedure. But I feel it was worth it."

G0-T0's optic sensor burned more brightly red for half a second. "Perhaps you misunderstand me. I 'care' for the Republic, but I have no choice. It is somewhat frustrating to be forced to love and care for such a mess of a government. Some of it may be blamed on the Jedi Civil War, the Mandalorian Wars, but not all. There are so many bad decisions that build upon each other that it is a wonder the Republic is intact at all."

The tone, the dismissal of the Republic annoyed Darden. Sure, the Republic had issues. But she'd spent too much time and effort on preserving and rebuilding it, both lately and in the past, known too many good men and women that had died and lived for the Republic, to hear it slighted with perfect equanimity. He didn't know how difficult it was for organics. Or how wonderful it could be. So she bit her lip, but eventually responded through her teeth, "I suppose it would be frustrating, for a droid. The hologram's generated?"

"Oh, please," G0-T0 said, sounding both sour and amused. "It is difficult for anyone to take a droid seriously, much less an infrastructure droid built by the Republic. It is difficult to order the deaths of criminal rivals when one has the tinny voice of an accountant droid. I learned this rather quickly. So I constructed the hologram, yes, through which my actions can be carried out. I brought Goto into being and had commands issued through him. I took many of his mannerisms from holovid clichés. They were surprisingly effective."

Darden snorted. "I'm not surprised," she said. "That they were effective, that is. Amused, yes. So. What happens now? Are you going to order me dead now that I've pried the truth out of you?"

"Nothing has changed," G0-T0 said coolly. "You have destabilized my entire criminal organization. You have also saved the Republic. You know my origins, and I know yours. We are on equal footing now, nothing more. And no one will believe you if you speak of what you know. I still seek to protect the Republic, either for the Jedi or for the Sith. Things will proceed as before."

"It's not quite the same as before," Darden said thoughtfully. "I figure the Republic wouldn't have built explosives into an infrastructure model. Plus, Bao-Dur would've neutralized them, if they had, when he worked on you last week." She shrugged. "I could kick you off, if I wanted."

G0-T0's torture prod started crackling with consideration.

Darden laughed. "You think you could use that before I cut you into so much molten metal and plastic? Jedi, here, remember?" Then she looked at him, and relented. "But I won't kick you off, G0-T0. The Ithorians were stupid, asking you to run a program as complicated as they did without considering what might happen. It's not you're fault what's resulted. You're right. Nothing's changed."

The Handmaiden stuck her tousled, silvery hair out of the cargo hold. "Why are you standing around talking with the crime lord on the boarding ramp?" she asked. "It is difficult to concentrate on my training when you do so."

"You're up?" Darden said. "Good. We've got food. We didn't want to wake you up to bring it in and catalogue it."

G0-T0 switched his tractor beam on and grabbed a barrel of water. Darden grabbed a box.

The Handmaiden came out to help. As G0-T0 proceeded them into the cargo hold, she looked at Darden. "He finally admitted to being a droid?"

"Yes," Darden said. "And that I've saved the Republic." She shrugged. "Come on. The others will be up soon. They'll want breakfast."

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was fun. I liked writing it. **

**Coming Soon: There is just one more Jedi to find, and Darden knows Kreia is almost ready to change things up. There is a wall in her head, lately, and walls exist to keep things out, to hide things. Curiously enough, Kreia grows more and more withdrawn as Darden grows closer with the newest crew member. Sometimes, it seems Mical can hardly remember that Kreia exists! And Kreia isn't the only one that withdraws as Darden grows closer to Mical. Keep reading!**

**Review if you feel like it. Make my day.**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	29. The Disciple

**Disclaimer: Negatory on the Ownership**

* * *

XXVIII.

The Disciple

Darden made her way to the cockpit around noon. Atton was there, sure enough. "Start her up, Atton," Darden told him. "It's time to find Vash."

"You realize this is a monumentally stupid idea, don't you?" Atton said conversationally, starting the engine priming sequence and sending the signal to Khoonda declaring their intention to leave. "Korriban is the galactic capital of the Dark Side. Or it was. Who knows what it is now. But it's _the_ likeliest place to find Sith, and we just shook those guys."

"_I_ don't know why the records say she's there," Darden said. "But if Master Vash is in trouble, we have to help her. If not, we still need to find her."

"And what if she _is_ trouble?" Atton wanted to know. "Swee—Darden, you ain't been to Korriban. The air there…it's heavy, like it wants to press you into the ground, and _that's_ full of enough dead Sith Lords to fertilize all Telos."

"Charming," Darden grimaced.

"I try." He was still keying in the start-up sequence. He held the comm. "Our fearless leader says we're heading to Korriban," he said. "Strap in."

Darden sat in the co-pilot's seat. She saw the green light on the instruments panel. "Khoonda's given us the airspace," she said, typing back their go-ahead. Atton frowned at her.

"Like there's competition for it. I could do that, Darden."

Darden shrugged. "I haven't seen you in weeks, it feels like. The most I've seen of you was yesterday, and then we were chopping up mercs and sewing up settlers."

She avoided his gaze.

Atton's jaw was tight. Darden felt the walls in his head up between them. She wasn't even trying to, but she was more in tune with him than the others, except Kreia. It hurt to know he was trying to keep her out again. For about three weeks before that sparring session, he'd relaxed his guard, at least around her. He'd trusted her. She'd considered it phenomenal progress.

The engines of the _Ebon Hawk_ revved beneath them. Darden checked the stabilizers and checked the message coming in. "Administrator Adare sends her best wishes. May the Force be with us and all." She looked down as Atton flew them out of the Dantooine atmosphere. Even after everything, or maybe especially after everything, it felt a little like leaving home.

The _Ebon Hawk_ cleared the atmosphere and Atton started them into orbit towards the right hyperspace route. Darden heard the hyperdrive click into gear. She felt it limp into action, temperamental, but really very glad to be doing its job. She stretched her feelings out, feeling the ship around her, not invasively, like Kreia had showed her, not in their heads, but just them, the ship and crew, their presence.

T3-M4 was in the engine room, keeping an eye on everything. HK-47 was cleaning his gun. He was fuming because they weren't headed to Telos yet to take out the HK-50 factory. Bao-Dur had tried to explain to him that the Jedi were more important right now, but Darden wasn't sure he understood. G0-T0 was vibrating in the main hold, calculating, calculating, always calculating. Darden couldn't hear him, of couse, but she could sense the energy pulsing through his chassis. Bao-Dur was focused on his remote. He'd lately decided it needed improvement, probably because G0-T0 had a weird vendetta against the little thing and had been bullying it. Darden supposed it was a design thing. The remote and the infrastructure droid were very similar. Moving up to more complicated beings, the Handmaiden was training. Not with Echani movements, though. Darden smiled. She was practicing her lightsaber forms. Visas was still eating lunch. Canderous was focused hard on something, contemplating. Darden thought he might be considering taking HK-47 out again. Kreia was in the women's dormitory, but Darden only knew that because none of the others were aware of her presence right now. Lately there had been a wall between Darden's consciousness and Kreia's, kept up on Kreia's part. Darden dismissed it for the moment. Mira was reading a datarecord from the bag Mical had brought with him, and Mical was—meditating.

Darden felt him recognize her consciousness drifting over the ship immediately. She felt him smile, welcoming her presence. He was in the med bay again. She tried not to feel annoyed, and returned her mind firmly to the cockpit.

Too late. She was annoyed. She crossed her arms and let out a little huff of irritation. Atton was inputing the coordinates for Korriban, preparing them for the jump to hyperspace. He smirked nastily, but said nothing. Darden wished suddenly she had her blaster, or her lightsaber, and her tools.

Her fingers drummed on the armrests mindlessly, then started pulling and twisting in the hem of her robe. Then she bent, retrieved her pazaak deck from beneath the seat, and started shuffling without aim or purpose.

The ship kicked into hyperspace. Darden started playing one-man pazaak, and about two minutes later, she felt the ship assume the slightly more metallic course of autopilot. Atton turned around. He regarded her a minute, and something softened in his face. "You don't have to do it yourself, sweetheart," he said, a bit less smoothly than he would have once upon a time. "Let me help you out there." He held his hand out for the pazaak deck.

"Sure you don't have better things to do?" Darden asked, challenging him.

"Nah," he answered. "Besides, you're so pathetic it'd distract me, anyway."

Darden looked down at the ground between them as Atton shuffled, and dealt. "I'm sorry," she offered finally.

"Don't worry about it," Atton said, playing first because he wasn't playing Teethree and he could.

Darden played her card off the stack. Atton played his. 8-3. Darden drew a 10. 8-13.

"You could call me on it," she said. "Call my bluff just like I could call yours, I bet."

"I could, except _you_ don't know when you're bluffing and when you've really got the creds to back it up," Atton said. Darden heard the frustration in his voice. "Anyway, you're as much of a coward as I am. Pazaak."

"Is it better this way?" Darden wondered quietly. Force knew it was easier to talk this way, never referring directly to the subject, focusing on the cards, never looking up.

"No," Atton said after a moment. "I'm off my game and so are you, and everyone that's _been here more than a picosecond_ knows it." He took a deep breath. Darden didn't look up. He chuckled darkly. "You are _really_ off your game. Pazaak. Still, it's a dangerous game…pazaak."

Darden nodded. 2-0 to him, and the cards were 4-6. She concentrated. "We both could win big, or we could lose terribly," Atton continued. "So you ran a risk-assessment and decided you'd rather not play than lose. You might be right."

25-20. "Pazaak," Darden said. 2-1.

"_Could_ we both win big?" she asked.

Atton's fingers were white as he laid down the first 7 of the round. He laughed again, strained. "I don't know, sweetheart. But you got more to lose, so it's your call. And you made it."

Darden frowned. She played her card, a 5. "I don't like you to talk like that," she told him.

"What? Honestly?"

"That's not honesty," Darden said. "That's guilt and self-loathing. I should know. You're more than you think, and more than your past. Even then you were more than you acted. That's why she saved you, because she knew that. Pazaak." Her words were fierce. "You're more than a killer, more than a soldier, more than a pilot, or a survivor, and even more than—whatever you are to me. You're Atton Rand, and the Force is with you. And _you are worthwhile_."

Atton hadn't taken his turn. Darden felt Atton's eyes on the top of her head. She still didn't look up. "You know, I'll bet I _could_ call your bluff," Atton said then, disbelieving, and a little smug.

Darden stood, and met his gaze. "Maybe you could," she said quietly. "I am pathetically off my game, and it's probably your fault. I can't even lock myself in the med bay and sort things out because Mical stole it—"

"Sort _what_ things out?" Atton asked slyly.

Darden glared at him. "You know what I mean," she said. "The point is, _don't_. Like I couldn't call you on yours until I'd figured out why I was scared—I'm not anymore, by the way. I'm not afraid of you, not in the slightest—you can't call _my_ bluff until you figure out _why_ you can."

She turned on her heel. "The pazaak game?" Atton asked.

"We'll finish it later," Darden snapped. It was a promise. Then she left. 2-2. Where neither of them had lost, and neither of them had won. Tied.

* * *

GARAGE, THAT EVENING

That evening, Atton showed up on time for Jedi training. Some undescribable tension was lifted from the air. Bao-Dur and Visas both lifted their heads, Mira's eyes snapped right to Atton and then back to Darden, and the Handmaiden inclined her head ever so slightly. No one said anything, and Darden went to the front of the group and started talking about the different ways the Force manifested itself in Sensitives, both children and adults.

Sometime during the lesson, Mical came to the door. He actually made a few remarks when the conversation turned to the history of Jedi recruitment, the traditions of training. Then, when Darden turned to the three traditional classes of Jedi talent in Padawans and Knights, he quieted.

"There were three positions, traditionally denoted both by robe style and lightsaber color," Darden said. "Jedi fit into the positions based not on their talents or intelligence or even their personalities, but the end to which they directed their use of the Force. The decisions that they made, and what they used their powers for.

"Jedi Guardians were the warriors. Like my Master, Kavar. These Jedi were set apart by their desire to protect others, to defend the good and see evil defeated. These Jedi tended to devote a lot of their time to lightsaber training, and wherever there was evil to be met, they met it, unafraid."

Bao-Dur and the Handmaiden's faces lit up. Bao-Dur activated his lightsaber, looking at the dark blue blade. "General—"

"Their lightsaber color was traditionally blue," Darden continued.

The Handmaiden activated her own cyan blade. "Then were you a Guardian, Darden?" she asked.

Darden shrugged. "I was always untraditional," she said, not answering the question. "There were Jedi Sentinels, too. These Jedi were devoted to truth. They sought out deception and injustice, wherever it was to be found, and brought it to light, because they had to know, and everyone had to see. They tended to learn as many skills as possible, convinced everything was of use in the pursuit of truth. They traditionally carried yellow lightsabers."

Mira looked thoughtful. The Force around Visas rippled with her self-recognition. Atton smiled to himself, a little self-consciously.

Darden looked sideways at Mical. "There were the Consulars, too," she said. "These Jedi were renowned for their deep understanding of the Force and the Jedi Way. They used the Force…for the Force. These Jedi usually stayed in our Enclaves to teach the next generation, except in times of great crisis when their wisdom was sought in conflict resolution. They carried green lightsabers, usually."Quietly, she added, "Revan was a Consular."

"None of us are," Atton said into the silence. "If we're gonna slap titles on."

"We don't have to," Darden said. "After all, the Jedi made the Jedi, in the end, not the Jedi's title. But one day, if we ever accomplish our task, or maybe even in the accomplishment of it, those titles might prove useful. Not only in the determination of which tasks each of us would find most meaningful, but also in communicating and working with others. Allies."

She paused, then said, "When I was a Jedi of the Order, they called me a Sentinel."

Everyone was silent. No one chose to speak the path they would have followed aloud, though Darden knew all of them knew. They weren't traditional, either.

"Moving on," Darden said. "Last night, Master Vrook showed me a new lightsaber form. Niman. I'll show you now."

She described the slightly different stance and grip, called out a drill sequence. She ran through the movements, too, tightening and perfecting her own form. Tonight and tomorrow and the day following all they would do is drill. But after that they would start sparring again. Darden looked at Atton. She wouldn't neglect him anymore out of fear of what they would reveal to the others. It wasn't as though everyone didn't already know.

Mical still watched. More, Darden actually saw little movements in his shoulders and feet, as though he were reviewing the stances in his mind. He caught her looking, smiled self-consciously. But he stayed.

After the lesson was over, and the others were fighting over showers, Darden went to him.

"We do have a Consular, don't we," she said. It wasn't a question. "Besides Kreia."

Mical turned away and started walking with her towards the med bay. Darden followed him in, and they sat opposite one another again. "I have studied the holo-record of your trial," he told her. "I have been in here with the utility droid nearly all day, going over it many times. I am unsure what to make of it. I must confess that I was searching for some meaning beyond the records, a reason for why one would leave the Order."

Darden shifted. "Why? What were you looking for?" she asked him easily.

Mical frowned. "Did you know that exile is a rare sentence?" he asked. "It is not really something the Order can enforce. Believe it or not, it was really your choice."

Darden folded her arms. "That's what my old Master said. I'll ask you what I asked him: I loved the Order, enough to come back when nobody else did. Why would I go into exile?"

Mical looked down. "I do not know," he admitted. "That is a question best answered by yourself. But it is you who made the choice to turn away, not them."

"It certainly didn't feel that way at the time," Darden said bitterly. "I'm not sure I believe it."

Mical looked at her. "I have seen the trial, and I have seen you speaking of the Order just now. I am not certain I do, either. But it is something worth considering."

Darden kicked her legs against the medical cot. "Why are you so hung up on this, anyway?" she asked him. "Why is what I did so important to you?"

Mical sighed. "I shall tell you, though indeed I feel what I have to relate is no news to you. We have met before, at the Enclave on Dantooine, many years ago. As on Coruscant, Force Sensitive children were taken to Dantooine as well, though it was done rarely, and only with those they believed were destined to become Jedi Knights. It was part of the secret nature of the place. If you were not chosen by a Master when you came of age, however, then the path of the Jedi was denied to you."

"Mical…you weren't…"

"It is not what you believe," Mical said, smiling ruefully. "I met you as a child, long ago."

"I remember," Darden said. "You always stayed, after the others had gone. You've changed, but your eyes…those are the same."

"You spent much of your time with the children," Mical said. "You were very young yourself, after all. You taught us how to hear the Force sing within others, within the life around Dantooine. It is difficult to explain the difference between you and Master Vrook, but I think it was because he was knowledgeable, but not a leader, not a mentor. You were different. We could all feel it. And I knew that if I were to have a Master, I would want it to be you." He looked down. "But then you went to war. Many Jedi went to war, and the Jedi Masters proclaimed that you were Jedi no longer. Atris, the mistress of the Archives, was first among them."

He was silent for a long moment, then he said, "I knew at that moment, that if you would no longer be a Jedi, then you must be correct. I realized I did not want to be a Jedi. Instead, I wished to follow your path. But in any event, there was no one to train me, even if I wished it. They all went to war, as I grew past the age of acceptance."

Darden realized that Mical would have been perhaps fifteen when Revan returned at the head of her Sith fleet. He probably hadn't even been able to join the Republic for three years after that. She closed her eyes. Bad timing had _ruined_ this kid's life. She opened them, extended a tentative hand. "So you just…abandoned the Force, the Jedi?"

Mical took her hand, pressed it, then gave it back to her with a smile that had no trace of bitterness. "It is possible to forget the Force, you know. If you have not felt it strongly enough, there is little to miss. But I never felt the Force as strongly as I did when I was with you. And so I decided to serve the Republic, study the Jedi teachings, gather them, perhaps. It was important to me to understand the Jedi as they began to disappear...perhaps I felt some part of you should be preserved, so that your lessons would not be lost."

Darden wasn't sure whether Mical's 'you' was general to the Jedi or specific to her. She shook her head. "Mical—I wish my leaving hadn't had such consequences on your future."

"Perhaps," Mical said thoughtfully. "I still harbor some doubts about the path I walked."

"I'm here now," Darden said. "And so are you. Are you ready to face what you abandoned?"

"I do not know that I ever truly abandoned the Force," Mical said. "But I think you are right. It is time that I faced it. The battle on Dantooine, the medical bay afterwards, the lesson. I have watched you, Darden Leona. You are strong in the Force, but that is not all. You have achieved a center in the chaos around us, and I have felt it."

He slid off his chair to kneel at her feet and took Darden's hand between both of his. "My Master—the one intended for me—left to fight in the Mandalorian Wars. Now, she has returned, and I ask her if she will train me in the ways of the Force."

Darden was frightened. She slid off the medical cot, sideways, so as to avoid stepping on him. She snatched her hand back. "Get up," she said. "Get up!"

Mical stood, looking at her inquisitively.

"Don't bow to me," Darden said. "Don't _ever _bow to me. That's lesson number one. You say Jedi are not supposed to be like the rest of sentience. But we are. We all are. You and I are both as human as we can be, and that's something we always have to remember."

"If I have been wrong, then teach me how to be right," Mical said. "Teach me what a Jedi Knight is, so that I may be one like I meant to be."

Darden looked at his earnest face, and was troubled. All of her pupils could fall to the Dark Side, and she knew their weaknesses. Bao-Dur's was anger. The Handmaiden kept her love of battle, her will to power very severely in check, but it was there, nonetheless. Visas' was despair. Mira's was fear. Atton's probably had been will to power, like the Handmaiden's, and then it had been fear as well, but these days it was closer to Darden's own weakness: guilt, self-hatred. But this young man in front of her—his weakness was his trust in her. If she broke that faith, and she _would_, inevitably, she would either drag him into the Dark with her, or arouse an anger greater than Bao-Dur's, a despair almost as great as Visas'.

So she walked to him, and took his hands in hers again. Gently, she said, "A Jedi Knight relies on the Force, not upon the Force he sees in others, Mical. Let the Force be your guide, and don't put your faith solely in me. Believe me, I mess up. The battle on Dantooine happened so quickly because I messed up, remember?"

"I understand," Mical said. "I am to be a disciple, not a worshipper. Thank you."

Darden nodded curtly, and sat down, cross-legged, on the floor. Mical sat across from her.

"Here, learn the Force again," she said. "Close your eyes."

Mical did so.

"See? Life is all around you here, even in deep space. You can hear the hyperdrive humming, feel the energy pulsing through the droids as they do what they were designed to do. You can sense the stars singing around the _Ebon Hawk_ as we dance through them and above them in the other-plane, in hyperspace. You can feel the Force in me, in the crew, in yourself. Life; death; everything is a part of the Force."

She felt Mical's mind and heart open like a withered flower to receive the rain.

The Force flowed through him and pulsed around him. Darden smiled. The Force was strong with Mical. She didn't wonder that he'd been chosen as a child.

"There," she murmured. "You remember. It's easier than you thought, huh?"

* * *

HALFWAY TO KORRIBAN

Everything continued on as was normal in hyperspace on the _Ebon Hawk_, more or less, with a few differences. Mical joined Jedi lessons in the evenings. Atton talked to her again, though he didn't mention again what she'd told him in their conversation upon take-off from Dantooine. This was somewhat frustrating, but better by far than the silence. G0-T0 stopped pretending he was the mouthpiece for a crime lord lightyears away. But other than that, Darden did her turn on the chore rotation. Bao-Dur, finished with his remote and with the repairs he could do on the ship without some seriously expensive new parts, started teaching her some more advanced droid programming. She sparred with the Handmaiden. She played pazaak with Atton. She read Mical's datapad collection. She taught her pupils individually through the day as circumstance came up, and collectively in the evening. And every evening _before_ she went to them, she went to Kreia, and Kreia taught her.

There were new tensions aboard. Mira picked fights with Mical, not so much because she didn't like him as because, as she told Darden, "The guy really has to _loosen up_. Seriously, I keep expecting him to break out into old Basic or something. And he has _no_ sense of humor. _At all._" When Mira picked fights with Mical, the Handmaiden, who liked Mical, would come to his defense. Mical never defended himself. He often failed to understand when anyone was attacking him, or he merely defended himself with such implacable good humor and courtesy and a refusal to acknowledge the attack. Personally Darden ascribed to the latter theory, because Mical was politer to Atton than to anyone else on board, but she got the undeniable feeling that Mical didn't like Atton any more than Atton liked him.

She couldn't say anything about it, of course. Atton hadn't been rude since Mical's arrival, and Mical was never rude at all. But Atton stood taller and spoke less when Mical was in the room. Mical had a tendency to speak first to others in the room, and then, belatedly to Atton, like Atton was an afterthought. He never did this so obtrusively that Darden could be sure it was deliberate, but it happened often enough that she was suspicious, nevertheless. And the one time they'd partnered for combat training both had fought so that Darden had called a focus change to defensive forms purely as insurance against their aggression.

Mical proved to her before he'd spent three days as her student that she'd been correct in her assumption that he'd make a capital Consular. A lightsaber duelist he was not. His only advantage was that of course as a Youngling he had been exposed to many of the Forms before. But any Force technique Darden taught him he absorbed almost immediately. He proved a particularly apt Healer. His senses perhaps were not as finely tuned as those of her other pupils, but his vision was clearer on a broader scale. Mical had an intuition, a gift for perceiving the currents of the Force galactically, that exceeded the intuition of all her other pupils. They bested him in other areas. Sight, physical sensitivity, foreknowledge, perception of patterns, mental defense and offense; all of Darden's pupils had their unique gifts, but none so widely ranged, so subtle as Mical's.

Mical often spent his leisure hours poring over the holo-map of the galaxy in the center of the main hold. He would study all the planets the _Ebon Hawk_ had visited since Korriban from every angle. He would talk to Darden about where they'd been and what they'd seen, and to the others, especially Bao-Dur. Then he would come back to the holo-map. Then he'd talk to G0-T0, oddly enough, or to T3-M4. Then he would come back to the holo-map again.

One day he told her something about the galactic map. Not about the worlds they'd been to, but others. "Revan sought to keep the infrastructure intact," he said of the worlds she had attacked during the Jedi Civil Wars. "She killed certain political leaders that would lead to destabilization. First Patriarch Lelin-Dor of Serroco, the Corellian diplomat Mimas Yoon, and Yusanis of Echani."

Darden looked around instinctively for the Handmaiden, but Yusanis' daughter was with Visas and Mandalore in the men's dormitory, listening to tales of Canderous' deeds. He liked telling about the wars, especially about the two or so years he'd traveled with Revan during the Jedi Civil War. So, reassured, Darden turned back to Mical.

He continued. "I am not sure she intended to conquer." He flicked through the worlds on the galactic map. His fingers darted over the console. "I think she was trying to do something else. I think she was trying to unify the galaxy against some other threat."

Darden looked for Kreia then, and that was when she realized that she hadn't seen her teacher outside the women's dormitory in days, and connected Kreia's sudden withdrawal from head and ship not to the vision she'd had in the crystal cave on Dantooine and the subsequent breach, but rather to Mical's joining of the crew. Darden didn't say anything then, just squeezed Mical's shoulder.

But that night, she took a tray to Kreia. "You haven't been eating," she said. "At least, not when the rest of us are up. Thought you might be hungry."

Kreia indeed ate gratefully enough. "What troubles you?" she said, after she had taken several bites.

"You're avoiding Mical. Why?"

"The ship hums with activity, with disagreements, distractions," Kreia said easily. "I find I maintain my serenity best here in the dormitory."

"That's ronto scrag," Darden said crudely, folding her arms. "Mical's joined the crew with less disturbance than anyone but Bao-Dur. There aren't any more disagreements than there were before, and you came out then to eat. You're avoiding him. Why?"

"What is in _your_ mind?" Kreia asked, sipping her water.

"I don't know," Darden said, sitting on her bunk. "That's why I'm here, asking."

"Unquestionably this Mical, this long-lost disciple of yours, is a fine addition to your little academy," Kreia said. "He is strong, stronger than the others will be for years yet, with background they cannot possess."

Darden stilled. "What threat is he to you?" she asked. "You're hiding."

"Perhaps," Kreia said. "Perhaps not. Perhaps you will simply have to put your faith in me."

"Not for a picosecond," Darden retorted.

Kreia only smiled.

Darden groaned, then kicked the bunk support. "At least come out to eat," she said. "I wouldn't want to die of starvation because you're nervous Mical will blow whatever scheme you've got going early."

Kreia inclined her head. "Your concern is noted," she said, very, very drily.

"You hate it when I'm concerned for you or for anybody," Darden snapped. "You say I'm demonstrating weakness. So. What is it tonight?"

Kreia pursed her lips. "What is redemption?" she asked. And so they began, and Darden answered Kreia's questions, though Kreia answered none of Darden's. But that was usually how things went. After all, as Kreia constantly reminded Darden, Kreia was the teacher.

* * *

**A/N: Eh. Not so keen on this one. I was expecting something more dramatic to come out with Kreia and Mical and Darden. But when I tried, it just wouldn't come. I typed a more dramatic scene, but it just came out looking stupid, or like Kreia had been way, way too careless. And she's anything but careless. Eventually Darden will realize what Kreia's doing with the crew. But she can't yet. She won't yet. And when she does, it'll have to be too late.**

**So, Coming Soon: Korriban is dead. The Valley of the Sith Lords is full of bones and the tombs of those for whom the Valley is named lie desecrated and destroyed. The ancient Sith Academy, more recently Revan's, then Malak's Academy, has been invaded by wild tuk'ata. Korriban is dead. But it is not abandoned. Darden Leona goes to the world of the Sith looking for Jedi, but instead, finds only Sith. **

**Keep reading! Review if you like. Or if you don't like.**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	30. The Trap

**Disclaimer.**

* * *

XXIX.

The Trap

The very instant Atton brought them out of hyperspace Darden could feel it. Her skin crawled with the Dark Side. It washed over her like a wave, pulled at her like a thousand tiny hooks. It was hot, angry, but dry, and sullen, and empty, too.

The blood left Darden's face, and she shivered and drew her knees up to her chest in the copilot's seat. She stared at the unforgiving rock of Korriban. The barren earth seemed to consume the whole planet. Darden knew there were springs below the surface, or else the planet would be unable to support any life at all. But she could not see them from space. The craggy mountains and bald plains seemed to glare up at her forbiddingly.

"Yeah," Atton said, watching her from the corner of his eye. "It's not a nice place, Korriban. I wouldn't want to take a vacation here. Let's keep our stay short, huh?"

Darden didn't reply. She went to change out of her street clothes and into her armor. She felt she wanted the protection.

Mira, Bao-Dur, and the Handmaiden were all waiting for her when she emerged back into the main hold.

"What is this place, Dar?" Mira demanded. "The air—it burns, and we haven't even landed yet!"

"It is the Dark Side, is it not?"

"It is Korriban," Mical said, entering the room with shadowed eyes. "This is the birthplace of the Sith. Did you know? Not merely the Sith that oppose the Jedi, but the ancient species, before they destroyed themselves in hatred and violence. Over the millennia, many have journeyed to Korriban, seeking the secrets of the Sith. This place is strong with the Dark Side, last of the Handmaidens."

Darden felt the ship enter Korriban's atmosphere. The gravity of the planet was heavier than the worlds they had visited before. Korriban was a larger planet, composed of more massive elements.

Silence fell over the ship. One by one, the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ filed into the main hold, even Kreia. Atton landed them quietly, smoothly. He really was a superb pilot, Darden thought. He came into the hold, pale, and slightly sick-looking.

"Well, that's us on the ground. This is Korriban. Why would one of the Jedi you're looking for come here?"

Visas' face was a study. "It seems quiet," she said, and her voice trembled. "The wind moves across the barren rock. But deep beneath the surface, you can feel the pain of what took place here. There is great power in this place for those who can hear its call."

"There is much that would draw a Jedi to this place," Kreia said in a strained voice. "The resting grounds of the ancient and more recently departed Sith contain many teachings believed lost. The most likely place to find our lost Jedi is the ruins of the old Academy."

"Where Revan trained her Dark Jedi," Atton said tightly. "I know. I landed us less than two kilometers away, in the Valley of the Dark Lords."

Mical looked up at Atton. He frowned.

"What do you know of Korriban, Atton?" he asked.

Darden spoke up, interrupting what Atton might have said, saving him from the necessity of a reply. "What happened here?" she asked Kreia.

"It was said that Revan intended to return to Korriban to subdue any potential Sith insurgents. But Revan disappeared," Kreia said. "It took a year or two for the Republic to send a force here to deal with any Sith that may have remained. They found Korriban much as we have, barren and lifeless. It was assumed that the remnants of the Sith turned on each other, vying for what little power remained. The Republic found evidence that several Sith Lords escaped Korriban, fleeing to remote sections of the galaxy."

"Kreia—there might be living Sith here," Darden said.

"Their stealth technology is good," Mandalore observed. "The Republic might have missed it."

"You may be correct," Kreia agreed. "As lifeless as it seems, the Dark Side is very strong here. The Sith Lords would not ignore such a powerful place. There is much that can be learned, even here."

Darden gripped her lightsaber tightly. "Right. Well. I guess we'd better—"

"—If you walk Korriban's surface, you shall walk it without me," Kreia interrupted.

Darden stopped. It was a rare thing that Kreia didn't want to go with Darden. Far more often Darden didn't want Kreia along, both because she didn't enjoy the old woman's company and out of fear that Kreia would be wounded or killed and Darden would feel it through their bond. Now, on a planet where a maybe-once powerful Sith might come in handy, Kreia was backing out? "Why?" Darden asked.

"I cannot go with you," Kreia said. "This place is strong with the Dark Side. It is difficult to center myself here. Korriban holds few secrets from me…but much that you should learn."

_It's the trials, _Darden realized. Every Padawan faced some sort of trial, when her Master felt her to be ready to pass from tutelage and into independence. Kreia had decided she was ready to pass from her tutelage, and so she was refusing to accompany Darden. That Kreia had decided to hold her trials on Korriban was worrying, but not uncharacteristic.

Darden bowed, an apprentice to her Master. Kreia smiled. "As you wish, Kreia," Darden said. Then, "Keep the engines primed…just in case."

"I will remain here and meditate. Our link remains. I shall contact you and provide guidance when needed. The Academy lies on the other side of this valley. Be careful. Dark energy fills these ruins, and even the fallen Sith live still."

"Right," Darden said. "Well, who else wants to explore Korriban with me? Dark energy, fallen Sith? Maybe living Sith?"

"I…I do not feel myself equal to this task. Not yet," Visas said.

"If you need me, I'm there, General," Bao-Dur said. But he looked uncertain.

"You'd rather not, though," Darden said. He did not reply.

"I'll keep watch over the _Ebon Hawk_," Canderous grunted. "There are unlikely to be Mandalorians in this place, and I've seen all I like to of Korriban."

The Handmaiden was shaking. "I shall…I shall accompany you, Darden." She was white.

"I'm not scared, either," Mira declared.

"You won't, and you're a liar," Darden said to both of them in turn. She strode forward and gripped Bao-Dur's, Visas', the Handmaiden's, and Mira's shoulders one by one. "Thank you for your bravery, but uncertainty will not serve me in this place. Stay here. Try to keep your minds clear, and meditate on my success. It will help."

The Handmaiden's cheeks were scarlet with shame, but the others looked relieved.

Darden turned, and saw Atton adjusting the straps on his pack, and Mical belting his saber on.

"You don't have to come," she told them.

"I'm coming," Atton said. He was pale, but his voice was firm and it wasn't at all a question.

"I as well," Mical said. "Dark Side or no, there is much history in this place."

Darden looked at them both. They were coming for her and she knew it. "Thank you," she said.

She led them down the boarding ramp.

It was midday where they had landed on Korriban. The sun shone down brightly but bleakly into the rocky valley where Atton had landed the _Ebon Hawk_. Its heat reflected off the barren rock all around. The air was heavy and stuffy. A wisp of a breeze blew, carrying with it the cry of some strange beast.

"Tuk'ata," Atton said. "Quadraped hooved mammal. Travels in herds. You'd think it'd be a herbivore. Except there isn't any vegetation on Korriban, or very little. They've got sharp horns and sharper teeth, and they're _very _territorial. The Sith here used to train them like the ones on Onderon trained the boma and drexl."

"Great," Darden said.

She looked around. Ruined columns filled the valley where they had landed, some crumbling, some toppled, all very cruel and ancient looking. To her right and left there were rows of tombs, with overarching statues of Sith with cold and blank faces. Darden could feel the dead malevolence of the Lords buried here. But the tombs were ruined. The doors were crushed and caved in, and Darden knew they had long since all been defiled and destroyed.

She started across the rocky earth. Her steps and those of Mical and Atton rang out unnaturally loud in the unnatural stillness. The wind blew again, and in the dust, Darden saw a corpse, not too old, but mummified from the heat and the wind.

"I have read of this place," Mical started, then broke off, looking around.

"The silence here doesn't like to be broken," Darden whispered.

Atton squared his shoulders then. "What have you read of this place, Blondie? Tell us." His voice followed by just as menacing a silence that indicated it was every bit as unwelcome. But he spoke in a normal, even a mocking tone.

Mical looked at him, then at Darden. Then he laughed, rather nervously. "Well, Atton, that tomb you landed the _Ebon Hawk_ by, there, on the left. It is the tomb of Naga Sadow. He was a terrible Sith Lord, but the tomb is more recently famous for what occurred there during the Jedi Civil War. There is a Star Map within, it is said, that led Revan twice to the Star Forge, before its destruction. There Revan fought the last Master of the Academy, Uthar Wynn. She killed him, and the leadership of the Academy fell into dispute. The Republic believes that the resulting infighting left Korriban as…as we see it now."

As Mical talked, the three of them made their way across the Valley of the Sith Lords. "What happened when Revan was here last? Do you know?" Darden asked.

"I am sure Canderous could tell you better than I," Mical said. "He accompanied her, you know, though, not, I think, to the Academy. She came as Aithne Morrigan, unaware of her past as the Dark Lord, to find the Star Map as directed by Bastila Shan and the Jedi Council. She masqueraded as a Sith to gain entrance to the Academy and the Valley. With her went Jolee Bindo and Carth Onasi. While they were here they rescued—"

"—Dustil Onasi, yes, he's said," Darden said.

"You are acquainted with Dustil Onasi?" Mical asked.

"We've met, yeah," Atton said.

"A couple times."

"Have you met the Admiral?" Mical wanted to know.

"No, but I'd sure like to," Atton and Darden said at almost the same time.

They looked at one another, then fell silent. Mical didn't notice anything strange, or if he did, he didn't say. "He is a good man, and a good officer," he said instead. "I have worked under him in the past. I actually sent him a message respecting our recent alliance on Dantooine."

"So you are a spy!" Atton accused.

"He told me about it, Atton," Darden told him. "I okayed it. I felt kind of bad about what we've done to the Republic since we started out."

"Oh, you mean putting down the revolution on Onderon, making sure the Telos Restoration Project didn't crash, and stabilizing the colony on Dantooine? Yeah, my conscience smites me every night," Atton said.

Darden rolled her eyes. "I meant blowing up their fuel supply in a space battle, running out on them when they had no intention of arresting them, and commandeering the infrastructure droid they were using to rebuild Telos."

"We didn't blow up Peragus, sweetheart. The Sith did. You specifically told me _not_ to blow up Peragus, remember? And then you went light-years out of your way to make up for _not_ blowing it up."

"And, to be strictly accurate, G0-T0 vanished before you ever met him, and I rather get the impression that when the time came, he commandeered you," Mical added.

"I still haven't reported it to the Republic, though," Darden said.

"I have," Mical reassured her. "The Admiral assures me that he feels the G0-T0 unit will be of more use in galactic reconstruction with our party than otherwise."

"You told them that?" Atton demanded. "Did you okay _that_, Darden?"

Darden didn't look at either of them. In fact she hadn't, and she did feel a little uncomfortable having her decision handed back to her like that. But she didn't want to tell Atton that and start an argument.

A tuk'ata squeal rang off the rocks. They were coming up into a canyon, out of the valley. The Dark presence in air lessened a very, very little bit.

"If I might be permitted to ask you a question, Atton," Mical said. "You never did explain your knowledge of Korriban."

"Mical—"

"Darden. It's okay," Atton said. "I was a Sith. Not a Dark Jedi like Visas, but I've been here before, yeah."

Mical looked at Atton. He frowned. "When you say Sith—"

"One of Revan's elite Jedi assassins during the Jedi Civil War," Atton said, smiling tightly, and a little nastily.

"He quit," Darden said hastily.

Mical blinked. "I…I see. It is…unusual that you still live to tell the tale."

"I'm a survivor."

"Clearly."

Mical's tone caught Darden's attention as well as Atton's. As they climbed the rocky path up out of the Valley of the Dark Lords, Atton shut his mouth like a box. Darden walked a little closer to him. _"You're more than your past. You are."_

To Mical, she said, "We've all done things we regret. The thing to remember is that though our actions are set in the past, unchangeable, our character continues to develop until the moment we become one with the Force. There is always redemption, and as Jedi, we should always be able to forgive and extend that chance."

The words hurt to say here, but she said them nonetheless. Mical looked at her, then at Atton. "I—you are correct, of course. I suppose you would know better than most. Forgive me, Atton."

"Hey, for what? I was a Sith. You don't like that. Lots of people don't. I don't happen to like the Republic," he shrugged. "Doesn't mean we have to kill each other. Not anymore."

The Darkness sharpened spectacularly again then. A different sound came on the wind, the sound of beating wings. And with the sound of wings, came a horrible, horrible smell.

Atton gagged and turned green. "Enhh…what's that stench?"

They rounded the corner and saw a cave, a narrow opening into the side of the canyon like a gaping maw. Through the entrance, Darden could see enormous, winged creatures with long claws and talons and wicked looking suckers on their underbellies.

Atton grabbed Darden and Mical. "Shyrack," he breathed. "Keep quiet. They're practically blind, but they've got incredible hearing."

Darden nodded, and stretched a foot forward. Gingerly, careful not to displace a pebble, she tread across the canyon floor. As she started past the shyrack cave, an incredible wave of Dark Side energy washed over her, almost stunning her.

_"The valley we just came through was full of Dark energy." _The voice was Mical's, but Darden had a feeling he hadn't meant to speak into her mind. _"This cave is darker still."_

_ "There is great power and Dark energy within this cave." _The cold, dry voice in the back of her head this time was Kreia's. Darden paused. _"I would advise you to finish your explorations within the Academy before venturing into the cave."_

_ "You want me to go in there?" _

Kreia was silent.

Darden kept moving. Atton and Mical followed.

Eventually, the stench of the cave in the canyon faded behind them, and an edifice carved into the rock appeared at the top of the hill. But just then, Darden heard a growl and a bark. She grabbed her lightsaber from her belt.

There were maybe six of them. Atton's tuk'ata. Horned, hooved creatures with sharp teeth and bad attitudes. They reared and tried to strike Darden and her friends with their small, sharp, cloven hooves. Darden gutted one, and turned on another.

The whole fight was over in twenty seconds. The tuk'ata weren't really that tough. Just angry.

But then Darden had to look at the Academy. The heavy, stone doors weren't locked. They weren't even shut. The entrance to the Sith Academy was open, and unprotected.

"Looks like someone left the doors of the Academy wide open," Atton observed. "I have a bad feeling about this."

"Something's about to get real wrong, real quick?" Darden quoted back at him.

Atton looked at her gravely. "Yes."

Mical was kneeling by one of the tuk'ata. He motioned to Darden, and Darden knelt beside him. The tuk'ata was wearing a collar, and attached to that collar was the emblem of the Sith.

She rose and shielded.

_"You can expect more than these beasts within the Academy," _Kreia said silkily.

_"Yeah, tell me something I don't know." _

"Keep your eyes open and your guard up," Darden said aloud to her companions. Quietly, they started into the perhaps not so abandoned Academy.

Darden had an eerie sense of déjà vu as she led Mical and Atton through the empty, crumbling rooms of the ancient Korriban Sith Academy. There were corpses littered here and there, and the silence was oppressive. She felt as if they were being watched. It felt like Peragus. It felt like Telos. It felt like Dxun. Darden looked at Mical. He had theories about the connectivity of the worlds they had been to.

"Look out!" Atton yelled. Darden ducked, and Atton's bronze lightsaber flew over her head and into the Sith that had just appeared a meter away from Darden. It returned to him, and two other Sith dropped their stealth fields. Darden had her lightsaber out in a second. She decapitated one, and Mical ran the other through.

Darden looked down at the bodies. "So. We aren't alone. Well, that's one mystery solved, anyway. Come on."

"These stealth units, you told me of them…but I hadn't thought…"Mical stammered.

"Yeah. Darden doesn't do exaggeration, bright-eyes," Atton said. "If anything, she usually _understates_ the level of dangerous and stupid we cope with on a daily basis."

Darden glared at them. "There's no need to broadcast our names and location," she hissed.

The door behind them, the open door into the Valley, slammed shut. Darden ran to it, and heard the lock engage. She looked for a keyhole, a security pad, but there was nothing. She folded her arms and glared up at Atton again. He held up his hands.

Darden pressed her lips together and turned away. She led them deeper into the Academy. Everywhere, they looked for that telltale shimmer in the air that revealed a stealthed Sith.

Twice more they were attacked before Darden found a working console. She pressed some buttons. Mical and Atton gathered close. "It looks like the Academy's reverted to some…automatic teaching system," Darden breathed. "They've got a layout here…there are three restricted areas, not including the door to the Valley. The library, the training room, and the detention area. I doubt Vash is here anymore. At least, if she is, she probably isn't…"

"She's probably toast," Atton said flatly.

"But there might be word of her in any of those three locations. To get access, though, I've gotta—"

Darden's fingers danced across the console. She created a new student identity, and pressed another key.

"That's the library unlocked," she murmured, as in the distance a massive door opened. "The training area—there's a test."

There were five questions. Darden looked at Atton. He shrugged. "I was never a _Dark Jedi_," he muttered, annoyed. "I ran because I didn't want to be one, didn't I?"

There was a growl behind them. Darden turned, to see four tuk'ata and two Sith. She activated her lightsaber. There was a battle. The Sith were stronger now, feeding off Darden's strengthened connection to the Force, and the connections of her companions. The Dark Side was with them. But fortunately, they fought with staves, and, though the Force techniques Mical attempted to use against them had little effect, lightsabers weren't nearly as ineffectual. The tuk'ata were tough, similarly Force resistant, but however aggressive the beast that bore them, hooves weren't the best design for a predator. When the tuk'ata reared to strike, one could gut them quite easily. It was when they ran like a battering ram that they were harder to cut down. Their heads were more than adequately armored, and their horns were sharp. So Darden discovered, the thing to do then was to step quickly to the side, and cut down the back end.

The fight was longer than the others, but again, Darden and her companions escaped without injury. Darden turned back to the console . The question about the Sith Lords buried on Korriban was simple, particularly as Atton had visited the tomb of Freedon Nadd on _Dxun_. Darden was similarly able to divine the number of participants in a Sith ritual with simple mathematical reasoning. The question about Sith-worthy pets was insultingly easy. The one regarding paradoxes was more difficult. Neither Darden nor her companions knew the answer. Eventually Darden hazarded a guess. The final question popped up on the console.

_The path to breaking chains is…_

The cursor blinked. Obviously Darden was supposed to type the answer.

"What do they want me to say?" she murmured.

Mical studied the question for a moment. Then he gently moved Darden to the side, and typed the following.

_Peace is a lie; there is only passion._

_ Through passion, I gain strength._

_ Through strength, I gain power._

_ Through power, I gain victory._

_ Through victory, my chains are broken._

_ The Force shall free me._

"That's terrible," Darden said. "What is that? The Code of the Sith?"

The screen lit up green. "Yes," Mical said. "It is in several records. The Jedi Code is so integral to everything the Jedi are, everything they believe. The Sith could not altogether dispense with it. So they contradicted it. Revan actually wrote a short study on the Code, in the year before her departure. The Sith Code and the Jedi Code, in fact. The Jedi did not preserve this record, decried it as false teaching, but the Republic thought it of interest."

"What did she say?" Darden wanted to know.

"She said both codes are inherently flawed, presenting a one-dimensional view of the Force. So much as it is a lie that there is only passion, and that power is the only true way to victory; so much is it a lie that there is no emotion, no passion. Revan claims the Jedi ultimately stunt their pupils, and the Sith self-destruct, and only by combining both understandings of life and death can we come to a true understanding of the Force," Mical related.

"Interesting," Darden murmured, looking around. "Do you believe her?"

"I do not know," Mical answered, after a moment. "I cannot deny that she is accurate in describing what the Jedi and the Sith paths sometimes lead to. There was something wrong with the Jedi teachings, or how could they have gone so awry? And certainly, this place is proof enough that the Sith self-destruct. But is the Jedi Code wrong? Or merely the interpretations of it?"

Darden had been leading them through the Academy to the library. The door had opened, and Darden led her companions through the corridor. The air shimmered just ahead. "Sith!"

A brief, fierce battle later, Atton said, as if they'd never been interrupted. "We can't get away from Revan, can we? No matter where we go, what we do, she's there."

"Her impact upon the galaxy will be felt for millennia," Mical said.

"No, it's more than that," Darden said. "Atton's right. It's like we're walking in her shadow, like we have been ever since we boarded the _Ebon Hawk_. I'm not sure if it's my fate to find out what my Commander did, what she meant by it, and where she went, in the end, or if the galaxy just wants me to do all that…" she trailed off, searching the library.

There was a dead Twi'lek, some very powerful explosives that Darden didn't think they'd need, and a malfunctioning computer console. But there was no sign of Master Lonna Vash in the Sith library.

"Right. The training center."

They left the library, and crossed the rotunda in the center of the Academy for the third time. The feeling of being watched had only intensified. They were certainly making noise, Darden thought. They had to have killed ten Sith already.

The training center was empty, save for six tuk'ata in cages. These tuk'ata were very badly off. Darden could see their ribs through their matted, dirty fur. Their eyes were sunken in their sockets. Their growls were weak.

"They're starving," Darden murmured.

"Don't feel too sorry for them," Atton said. "Let 'em out of those cages and they'll rip us apart in half a second."

"No, I know," Darden said. "It's just—if the Sith wanted to use them, they should have taken better care of them, don't you think?"

"The Sith don't care about humane treatment of animals, Darden," Atton told her. "Or the humane treatment of anyone or anything."

Darden began searching the room, but she could find no sign of Vash. So she signed on to the console. The automated training regimen automatically assumed she wanted a training session, and started looking for a Level Two challenge. Unable to find one, the computer told her it was substituting a Level Sixteen training challenge. The cages around the room creaked.

"No, wait!" Darden cried, punching keys. But it was too late. The tuk'ata were out.

Darden activated her lightsaber. The tuk'ata stumbled out, lunging at them with the desperation of the dying.

Darden swore. There were six of them. She killed two in ten seconds, clean, quick blows behind the neck. Mical slew a third, not quite as neatly. Atton dispatched a fourth. The fifth and sixth shrieked their animal cries, angered, grieved, afraid. Darden thought that if they'd been full they might have turned tail and run. But they were starving. They were dying anyway. They kept coming.

Atton and Mical together took out the fifth. Darden looked at the sixth trembling, emaciated beast. The collar on it had chafed a welt. She swore again, and killed it, feeling dirty and despicable.

She turned back to the console. _Test failed_ blinked on the screen in imposing red letters. _Time elapsed for a level sixteen challenge. Report to detention area for disciplinary action. _

The door across the corridor opened with an ominous grinding noise.

"Well, that's the last locked down area, anyway," Darden said.

She led Atton and Mical across the hall.

They didn't need to look for evidence of Lonna Vash. She was there. Darden hit the control beside the torture cage to open it and knelt beside the corpse.

It was still warm. Master Vash had likely been alive half an hour ago. But the dirt on her clothes, the stench of unwashed body, suggested she had been imprisoned for three days at least. Her robes were torn and reknotted together in many places. Darden saw cauterized lightsaber scars on her legs, inflicted precisely where they would cripple her and cause the most pain. She rolled up Master Vash's sleeve, and saw more injuries. Like Visas, only more strategic. Lonna Vash's raptor-yellow eyes stared glassily at the stone ceiling. Congealing blood dripped from her short, spiky gray hair.

Her thin hand clutched a datapad. Darden pried it from her fingers, and then, gently, closed the Jedi Master's eyes.

She stood, and activated the datapad, perusing the entries in it.

"Lonna Vash…I had heard stories of her," Mical said quietly.

"This is who we came here to find?" Atton said disgustedly. "Looks like this has all been a big, dangerous waste of time. Well, I won't say I told you so."

Darden read the entries. _…found the Sith I came to Korriban looking for…fell neatly into their trap. Their leader, Darth Sion…no doubt I will escape this situation…_

"Arrogance," she murmured. "It's worse than a waste of time, Atton," she said, raising her head. "It's a trap. Sion again."

Mical focused. "He was the one from Peragus, was he not?"

"Great. Sleeps-with-vibroblades again."

"She did do one thing for us," Darden said, looking down at Vash and striding over to the console in the room. She typed in _Lonna Vash. _Then she didn't schedule a disciplinary action. She opened the door to the Valley of the Sith Lords.

Across the silent Academy, Darden and her companions could hear it open.

"Let's go."

He was waiting for them in the rotunda, with two Sith. Darden took in a breath through her teeth. She'd forgotten how unnatural, how broken Sion was. The wide socket with its blind, angry, rolling eye. The death-pale skin criss-crossed with hundreds of cracks and scars, held together with the Dark Side. Darden could see the twitching muscles beneath.

He regarded her. His jaw was tight with pain. But Sion was always in pain. He lived on it, Kreia had said.

"Did you come here for answers?" he asked, breaking the silence. Darden had only heard his voice once before, on a holo-recording. Directed at her it made her want to cringe. His voice was the sound of rocks breaking asunder, of hopes scorned and bones ground to dust. "There are none," Sion continued, without waiting for her answer. "The call of Korriban is strong, but it is the call of the dead. I have studied you, Darden Leona, immersed myself in you. I know the paths you walked in exile. I know your teacher. I know the fires that raged upon the Dxun moon while the Republic died around you."

Darden flinched.

Mical gripped her arm. She shook him off.

"You know war," Sion went on relentlessly. "You know battle. And I know of Malachor. You know what it means to be broken. But the one who travels with you will destroy you, as she did me. I can end it before it begins."

Now Darden stared at him. He was definitely saying he wanted to kill her, but the way he was saying it was different than anyone she'd ever met. He was saying he'd kill her like Darden had killed those starving tuk'ata in the training room. Mercifully. Like it would be better for her to be dead, like it would be a kindness. And he was making no move towards her now.

Darden was fascinated. She stepped forward a little, without activating her lightsaber. "What do you know of Kreia?" she asked.

"I know her as an apprentice knows their Master, and as a Master knows their apprentice," Sion said.

Darden got it, then. For Sion, this wasn't about her. This was about Kreia. And for Kreia, this was about Darden. Behind her, Atton shifted. She shook her head ever-so-slightly, and took another step towards Sion, and the open door behind him.

"What do you want with her?"

"I want her to die," Sion spat, "And see all that she has build cast down. All that she holds dear, in shards at her feet."

Darden stopped moving. He definitely did want to kill her, then. Darden didn't trust Kreia at all, but she did know Kreia cared something for her, if only as a tool she was building. "What does she want with me?" she asked Sion, and her throat was dry.

"She clings to the hope that perhaps she can train one as great as her first," Sion said, looking down at Darden as if she were an insect, a little crawling thing. "She is a fool who has escaped death once. She will not do so again."

Darden swallowed. "She's not here," she said, more boldly than she felt. "And if you want to deal with me, let's get to it, already."

Sion activated his single-hilt red lightsaber. But before he attacked, he looked at her, almost pityingly. "You are a wretched thing," he observed. "A thing of weakness and fear. You are here apprentice in name only. I am the Master. And that is why you will die."

His Sith drew their staves. Darden, Mical, and Atton activated their lightsabers. Battle was joined. Atton and Mical focused their attack on the supporting Sith, ensuring that they could not aid Sion in killing Darden. Darden herself took on the Sith Lord.

Darth Sion was much taller than Darden Leona. Taller than Atton, taller than Bao-Dur, and taller (she thought) than Alek had been, all those years ago. Perhaps not. Nevertheless, he was powerful. Very powerful. Waves of pain and hate emanated from him, nearly blinding Darden in the Darkness. All the evil that had been done in this place rose up his ally, and diminished Darden in turn. Still she fought, adopting a lower stance to make him come to her, to make him bend down and lessen his power both of attack and defense. She used his power against him. It seemed to work. His blows were clumsy, and she dodged them easily, and struck up under his guard, deep into his rib cage. She felt her lightsaber break through his bones and a pass through his internal organs. She removed it. He buckled, fell to his knees.

Then there was a surge, a massive surge of Dark energy. Darden watched as the Dark Side of the Force held the new wound she'd made in Sion's side together like a pin, as he took new strength from the pain she'd inflicted upon him. He stood, grimacing.

His Sith companions had fallen to Atton and Mical, and they watched in horror as Sion stood before them, ready to go again.

In the back of Darden's mind, something quivered in recognition. Kreia. _"Sion. He cannt be defeated. He is not a beast of flesh and blood. This is not a battle that can be won. Flee."_

_ "Now you tell me!" _Darden thought viciously back at her, already exerting the Force upon her limbs to give them inhuman speed. Mical followed suit, and then Atton. _"I thought this was what you wanted!" _

Kreia wanted her to defeat the Sith Lords, didn't she? Wanted Darden to take her vengeance?

She did not deny it, merely replied, _"There will be another time. But it is not now, not here, while Korriban runs through him."_

Darden ran.

* * *

THE ANCIENT KORRIBAN ACADEMY

Darden Leona, Jedi Exile, ran with her two companions. The broken man who called himself Sion watched them go. The dark-haired man he knew, the pilot, the one who had escaped with her from Peragus, the one that had led others to defeat his soldiers on the Dxun moon. The fair-haired man was something new, but he sensed that the Exile was already changing him, working upon him as she had worked upon the pilot. She built her army. The man who called himself Sion wondered if she knew it.

One of his men made to pursue her. He was filled with a sudden rage, and he struck out with his lightsaber, ending the man's pitiful life, taking little comfort from the pain that rose up, then dissipated. To the others he said, "Do not harm her. I command it. She has earned this. She and I will meet again."

When the time came, he himself would end the Exile's misery, and he would watch Her hopes for the Exile die. Then he would kill Her, and at last be truly free.

* * *

**A/N: I'm going to deal with Darden's emotions at what has happened in this chapter more in the next. In fact, the next chapter is a veritable soup of emotions. I'm hoping it will be absolutely awesome. But I cannot guarantee it. I might mess the whole thing up irrevocably.**

**Coming Soon: The Unnamed Tomb. Enough said, right?**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	31. The Forge

**Disclaimer: The original writers had as much fun writing this bit as I did. And they get the credit.**

* * *

XXX.

The Forge

They were three minutes down the path before Darden realized Sion wasn't following. She paused, sensed. She felt his malevolence, his anger, back at the Academy, but she also felt his patience.

"He's done for now," she said, incredulous. "He's not going to chase us."

"What kind of Sith Lord is he, anyway?" Atton wanted to know. "Lures us in with a dead Jedi Master, spends five minutes talking to us and ten fighting us and then just lets us go?"

"I do not think Darden Leona is his true enemy," Mical observed. "He seemed much more interested in his old Master."

"Kreia, right?" Atton said.

"Kreia," Darden confirmed. "I'd suspected before. Now I'm certain. She was a Sith, and a powerful one."

"What are you going to do? You can't just—"

"I'm going to take her test," Darden said.

"I confess I do not understand to what you are referring," Mical told her.

Darden was walking now, faster and faster, towards the cave Kreia had suggested she leave alone until she visited the Academy. "She wouldn't come because she wanted me to learn something. On my own. Or because she wanted me to pass a test. If I want to understand her, I have to understand what she's trying to teach me. She's certainly not going to explain herself any other way."

"Darden—" Atton began.

"If you don't want to come, don't," Darden snapped, plunging forward into the shyrack caves, employing Breath Control so she didn't have to breathe in the stench.

Atton swore behind her, but followed. So did Mical.

The tunnels inside the Korriban canyon were damp. Here the underground springs came up. Darden could hear the water dripping and rushing in caverns still lower than the ones in which she tread. Here what vegetation grew on Korriban—blighted, fungi-like specimens—grew phosphorescent and twisted. The shyrack battled with tuk'ata for territory and the right to prey upon the insects that fed upon the vegetation. Neither shyrack nor tuk'ata was thrilled about Darden's intrusion.

They forgot their battles with one another and attacked Darden and her companions in tandem when they heard her. Darden battled her way through them, seeking the source of the Darkness Kreia wanted her to explore. As she made her way through the cave the Force felt ever darker, and her surroundings were ever blacker, until she kept her lightsaber activated despite its telltale hum just to see half a meter in front of her.

A growl sounded in the blackness, colder, more rasping, than the growls of the tuk'ata. Darden whirled. The air shimmered. A clublike tail swung towards her chest. Darden jumped back.

The silvery glow of her lightsaber revealed the outline of the mostly camouflaged creature that attacked her. A massive lizard on four, stubby legs scuttled towards her. Curved claws six centimeters long scratched the rock, and dripping teeth gnashed. Its eyes, big and black to see through the murk of this place, glittered in the darkness. Darden jumped to the side, over a claw, and plunged her lightsaber deep into one of those eyes. The blade hissed as it evaporated the eye and burned its way through the creature's skull. The creature gave a high-pitched roar, and fell.

Darden, Mical, and Atton stared down at the lizard-thing. Mical prodded it with his boot. "Dark-Side dragon," he said. "I had not thought they were native to Korriban."

"They're not," Darden said. "My bet is some Sith thought it would make a wonderful pet and imported it. Maybe more. If these things have been breeding down here…"

She turned, and waved her lightsaber around. The light illuminated a large, gray, crumbling archway. "It was a guard," she murmured. She looked at the tomb, like the ones in the Valley of the Sith Lords, except the door on this one was completely intact.

She knew before Kreia's voice sounded in her head that this was it. _"The power I felt coming through the cave is just ahead. I believe you are strong enough to explore the tomb. It has not been plundered. Its mysteries may still be intact. But so might its traps. Take great caution."_

Darden took a step forward. She seemed to pass through some sort of barrier, like a rubbery oil. She laid a hand on the stone door of the tomb. It slid upwards.

"What…"

Darden turned. Atton was attempting to follow her, but the barrier she'd passed through hindered him. "What is this? Can't…" He tried to force his way through again. "Can't go any further…"

Mical held up his hand to the barrier. He closed his eyes, sensing. "It's a wall of the Dark Force," he said. "I am not strong enough to go through."

Darden started to return. _"You will have to face the challenges of the tomb alone. Are you ready?"_

Darden stopped. "Well, this is it," she murmured. She waved a hand at Atton and Mical. "I'll see you back at the _Ebon Hawk_," she said, more loudly.

Mical was grim-faced. "Are you certain?"

Atton was pale, shaking. He tried to force his way through again. "Darden—don't."

"I'll see you back at the _Ebon Hawk_," Darden repeated. It was both order and promise. She turned away, and Atton's call faded into the distance almost immediately.

Darden walked into the tomb on ginger feet, straining her eyes to see beyond the small circle of light cast by the beam of her lightsaber. Somewhere behind her, she heard a heavy stone door closing.

Darden didn't delude herself. She knew Kreia was almost done with whatever she had planned. The search for the Jedi had been the timer. They'd been over six months on it now. Four of the five known remaining Jedi in the galaxy had been found. The fifth lay dead in the Academy on Korriban. Darden tried not to feel bitter about the wasted time, tried not to feel angry that Vash, of all the Council, had been the one to die. In the record of her trial, Vash had been the most adamant that Darden deserved to know what had happened to her. Darden had held high hopes of conversation with her. Darden tried not to think of how she had probably died. Not quickly, or honorably, in battle. But slowly, painfully, like a caged animal, soiled with—

Anyway, it was over. Darden could have the Handmaiden sent a message to Atris. She had done all she could. Darden could return to Dantooine. Either the Jedi would be there, and they would work together to address the Sith threat, or they wouldn't be there, and Darden would have to work something out herself. In any event, the search was over. Training was over. The time for action was now. And this, this tomb, this was Kreia's first move.

She came out of a long corridor into what seemed like Dantooine sunlight. She blinked, surprised to find herself on the Dantooine plain. And she wasn't alone.

Six very young people were gathered around. They were children, the Handmaiden's age, perhaps younger. One or two of them might have been Mira and Mical's age. Darden walked up to them slowly. "Hello?"

One of the women turned to face her, and Darden stared. It was Cariaga. Cariaga Sin, before she'd fallen in the battle of Serroco. Cariaga, tall, slim, dark-haired and proud, and all of sixteen years old. And Talvon Esan, and Nitotsa, and Xase. Her friends, her companions, her fellow soldiers in the Mandalorian Wars. And the young man before them—seventeen, but still with the height and bearing of a man, with elegant tribal tattoos over his shaven skull-

It was Alek. Before he'd changed his name, before he'd changed. And Darden remembered this day.

_She'd been uncertain. The rumors from the Rim were dire, and there were stories of Cathar that were fit to turn her blood cold. Revan, _the_ Revan , youngest Jedi Knight in seventy-five years, already famed for her brilliance and her bravery, had contacted Darden personally about joining a troop of Jedi Knights to travel to Cathar, to find out what happened there, and perhaps to join the Republic in their war against the Mandalorians. Except then Darden's Master had told her the Council had forbidden interference. They were waiting for something, he'd said, holding back until the strategic moment. What moment? Darden had asked him. They said people were dying, people the Republic was sworn to protect, people the Jedi were sworn to protect. Worlds were burning; the Republic was losing. That's what they said. Still, Darden had been uncertain, though Xase said they must, and Nitotsa was desperate to see about her homeworld. Then Alek himself had shown up, Revan's dearest friend and trusted lieutenant. He'd come to them. _

"Do not heed the words of the Jedi Council," Malak said now, as he'd said then. "The Republic will fall if we do not act now. Already the Mandalorians have taken three systems along the Rim. They will only grow more powerful with time. Come stand with me. We will discover what has happened. We will use our might to help the Republic in its time of need. Join Revan and I. Together, we will fight this menace."

Cariaga crossed over from the place where she stood with Darden to stand next to Alek. She turned her amber eyes upon Darden, challenging her silently. Darden looked down, half expecting to see the long brown robe she'd worn that day. But there she stood in the armor Atton had bought for her over six months ago on Citadel Station. She felt for her Padawan's braid, but she'd cut her hair short long ago, during her exile, and never grown it out since. Mira had trimmed it again for her just last week…

"What are you doing here?" Darden said shakily. "You can't—I can't be here. This is—this was seventeen years ago."

Alek looked straight at her. "The Jedi Council is wise, but will take too long to deal with this threat," he said. "We must act now to stop the Mandalorians. I have heard of you. Your masters speak well of you, of your skills in battle. Join us."

Talvon Esan crossed the line and went to stand beside Cariaga. He, too, turned accusing eyes on Darden, asking her why she hadn't crossed the line yet.

"I went," Darden said. "I went then. I did." She looked at Alek, saw the shadow of the Sith on his face. She deactivated her lightsaber and wrapped her arms around herself. "I wonder why," she murmured softly. "I can't believe I didn't see where you were going. You, at least," she said to Alek.

"The Jedi Council is wise, but can make mistakes," Alek said, ignoring her voice. "History has proven this time and time again. The Council seems content to watch, to debate, while entire systems fall to the Mandalorians. If we don't act now, there may be no Republic army to assist in the future." Until that moment, Alek had been watching her, yes. Even then she had been above her companions. A better student, a better fighter. She could say it without arrogance. It was true. But his eyes had looked through her, as if he looked at the Darden Leona of seventeen years ago. Now his face changed, and he was looking at her, Darden Leona, thirty-four and exiled these past ten, almost eleven years. "I sense you will join us," he said, departing from his words of that day. "What are your reasons?"

"Not yours," Darden told him, realizing now it was a vision, a test. But that didn't make the question invalid. She examined herself, uncertain now. Now she saw so clearly Malak's haste, his thirst for violence, his will to power, manifested in young Alek for all his high-sounding words. Had these seeds of Darkness been present in her, as well? Was Atris correct? Was Vrook? "I—I couldn't let the civilians die," Darden said. Her words sounded hollow. "We were supposed to protect them. My might had nothing to do with it."

"A good reason," Alek said silkily, and he was Malak, for all he wore Alek's face, Malak, early on, when she'd first started noticing, and told Revan she worried about her apprentice. "Delay would have brough ruin, and there was much suffering. You had to act. It was within our power to end the war. And the Council chose to debate behind closed doors while planets burned."

Nitotsa crossed the ground to stand with Malak, shaking her blonde head proudly.

Darden looked at the ground, recalling Kavar's face the day after this one, when she had told him she was leaving. "I think there was more to it than that," she said, as uncertain of this as she was of her own motivations for joining now. "Back then I couldn't see. But…they ought to have stood forth and protected those they were sworn to. But, nevertheless, I think they saw something we—I—didn't."

"Their vaunted wisdom bred only inaction," Malak replied, definitely using the past tense now. For the first time there was a hint of a sneer in his quiet, pleasant voice. "And that would've led to destruction greater than anything born of the Dark Side."

Xaset crossed the line. Darden looked at her childhood friend, pleading with him to stay, to realize where he was going. She gave the order for his death, at Malachor.

"So if you could do it all again, the real question is: would you?" Malak whispered, stepping close to Darden. "The Mandalorians wait on the edge of space, eager to crush the Republic. You know how this turns out." He began to circle her, stooping to murmur in her ear. "Would you do it any different? Knowing what it costs you, knowing what it costs the rest."

Darden looked at her four friends. As she looked, she seemed to see Cariaga's ship plunging into Serroco and exploding. Talvon—she'd left him behind, when she returned to the Jedi, and he'd declared allegiance to Revan. His eyes that day had been so contemptuous, so full of pride and hate. Nitotsa—she'd been on the other side of the galaxy when Revan had given her news of her old friend's death in an entirely different campaign. One of innumerable feints. Revan had called it a necessary sacrifice. Xase…Malachor shook and trembled beneath her once more. Thousands of ships exploded behind Darden's eyes. He'd been on one of them. One of thousands. Hardly significant. A single life in the massacre of a world. Her massacre of a world.

"Ye—no," Darden gasped. "No. I would have gone. I would have acted the way I acted then." She took in a breath like broken glass, and somehow, gained strength from it. She drew herself up and glared at Malak. "And what-ifs are pointless, anyway. I stand here who I am today because I did make the choices I made then. If I'd done differently, you'd be talking to someone else. Don't talk to me about regret. You're just a vision."

Malak laughed, and as he did, his orange robes turned blood-red, and a long cape began to whip about in the Dantooine wind. His healthy tan skin turned deathly pale, and his eyes glowed sickly yellow. Darden knew this man, too, six years older, Sith in deed if not in name. This man was callous, hasty, and angry. Always angry. This man had thrown her into a wall when she told him she wasn't coming, wouldn't follow him anymore.

"So, knowing how it would all transpire, you would still follow Revan and I? Excellent."

The sixth person on the plain crossed the line to stand at Malak's side. Darden looked at her. She had no idea who this woman was. She was average height, with brown hair, bright blue eyes, delicate features, and a porcelain complexion. Dressed in a peach and brown suit that was a little different from the average Jedi robes.

"And now you are all alone," Malak said, and his voice grew metallic. His jaw disappeared and in its place appeared a hideous, metal, mechanical monstrosity. "Would you join me now? You didn't follow Revan and I down our path. Join us. Your journey hasn't ended yet."

Darden had been staring at the sixth person all this time. If she were ten years younger, in a blue tunic three sizes too big for her, with longer pigtails…"Bastila," Darden said, under her breath. She looked at Malak. "Bastila didn't join you. She was too young. And anyway, she told us all to obey the Council."

"She didn't join us that day, but in time she came to our way of thinking," Malak said in his mechanical monotone, with a broad expansive gesture. "And even before then she wavered and wondered what would have happened. It is a familiar path. There are those who wished to follow you to war, yet remained behind. They came to hate you for the choices they wished to make."

"I didn't follow you then," Darden said. "I will not follow you now. My journey may not be over, but it does not lie along your path."

"Are you so certain?" Malak hissed, raising his eyebrows in amusement. As he did, the lightsabers of the five Jedi behind him slid out. They were red, blood red. "Every step along the way we did what we though was right. Perhaps the same path lies before you. But the time of words is done. Now it is time you experienced the full power of the Dark Side."

With that he activated his lightsaber. Darden stared at the scene, incredulous. She did not move to activate her lightsaber. This was a vision, right? A vision couldn't harm her. Bastila's double-bladed saber flew at her, then, and Darden felt the heat off it. She jumped aside, activating her saber. She thrust out with the Force, attempting to make a wave to throw her phantom attackers off their feet.

It worked. All of Darden's old friends, Bastila Shan, and Malak were pushed back three meters and fell. All of Darden's old friends disappeared upon contact, but Malak rose up again, looming over her. He bore down on her with his lightsaber. Darden brought hers up to block, and staggered under Malak's very real weight. And he had been taller than Sion, much taller, and much stronger. Darden fell to her knees, ducked, and rolled past him and up behind. Lightning flashed over the Dantooine plain. It struck Darden in the chest, and she screamed as the electric current ran through her, burning through her muscles like liquid fire. The grass next to her did catch fire, and she could smell the smoke. The current expired, and Darden threw her lightsaber. It passed through Malak's chest. He laughed, and vanished.

The Dantooine plain went pitch dark. Darden fell to her knees on hard, cold stone, breathing heavily. She was in the tomb on Korriban again. But she could still smell smoke in the air. And her chest was still burning. Darden touched her breastplate, and drew her hand away immediately, wincing at the heat coming off the metal.

She tried to focus on the Force, bring it to her to sooth the skin and nerves. But in the Darkness, she could not connect to the Force. She struggled, struggled, and struggled again. But it was like Citadel Station all over again, when she had failed to heal herself. And Kreia was silent in her head this time. It was like Coruscant, immediately after her exile but before she'd caught the shuttle, when she'd been mugged in the alley and left there, bruised and bleeding, though fortunately not hurt any worse. She'd struggled then to heal herself, hoped in vain that the nothingness she had felt since—was just an illusion, nothing more. But the Force had not come to her aid. It had abandoned her. Darden gasped in the Darkness, and strained her eyes in the blackness.

The burning in her chest eventually faded to a smart. Then Darden climbed to her feet, activated her lightsaber, and moved on, deeper into the Unknown Tomb.

* * *

MICAL

The pilot was still pacing around the wall of Dark Side energy, trying to find a weak spot. From his seat on a nearby rock ledge, Mical watched, impressed despite himself. Atton was coarse, untidy, with a…questionable past, but Mical could not deny that the pilot had a certain degree of determination, bordering on ronto-headedness. Mical might possibly have been more impressed if this determination, at the moment, did not seem to stem entirely from Atton Rand's…misguided…feelings for Darden Leona.

Their Master had been inside the Unknown Tomb for a galactic standard hour now. Mical's eyes had adjusted to the blackness, and he was able to make out the silhouette of the doorway and the silhouette of his companion now even without the aid of his lightsaber. Shyrack had attacked twice. There had, of course, been no question of returning to the _Ebon Hawk_ to await his Master as she had asked. Korriban was too dangerous. This unknown place might contain any dangers whatsoever, and the Sith were too near. They could not leave her here alone. Not yet. In two or three more hours it might be a different matter.

But Mical had accepted after half an hour of trying that they would be unable to enter the tomb after her. He had sat down, refreshed himself with what food and drink he had in his pack, and tried to collect himself, center himself despite the looming presence of the Dark Side. It clenched the vocal chords together and imposed silence. It pressed in on every side with its dead, empty, sullen anger.

Atton was only making things more difficult, really. He was muttering under his breath now, examining the rock face around the doorway. "'There's always another way out,' she says. 'There's always another way out'."

"Unless the place has been specifically designed with no other entrance," Mical said, trying to fight back his irritation. It could take him over, here. "Our Master spoke of a trial, a trial for her alone."

Atton said a word in a language Mical was unfamiliar with. It sounded vulgar. "Kreia," he spat. "When I see her next, I swear I'll—"

Mical shifted on his stone seat. He knew to whom Atton referred. Of course he did. There was an old woman aboard the _Ebon Hawk_ who called herself Darden's teacher. That was why Darden was in the tomb now, because these were the trials. But for the life of him he could not recall why Atton was speaking of Kreia in such a vindictive, hateful tone. And he had an uneasy feeling that he should know, that he did know, perhaps better than Atton did…but now he could not recall Kreia's face, even. Mical clutched his temples, trying to remember. But his mind swam, floundered. He forgot.

He said nothing.

* * *

DARDEN

Darden was thirsty. She had no idea how long she had been inside this tomb. Minutes? Hours? Longer? But her canteen was as dry as the bones of the mummy that had to be here somewhere. Eating ration bars wouldn't help that. Her skin was parched, and her fingers ached from clenching her lightsaber so hard for so long.

There had been an entire shyrack nest back a few hundred meters. Darden had thanked whatever deity existed down here that she'd had a stealth generator in her pack and already smelled like the foul creatures from prolonged travel in their subterranean world. She had picked her painstaking way through the brood, tense all over lest she breathe too loudly or step too near and give herself away to fifty of the things. In groups of three they weren't so tough. In groups of fifty, she knew they'd simply swarm her.

The door shut out the long corridor that led back to the brood, and Darden breathed freely at last, taking down her stealth field. The breath rasped in her dry mouth. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.

She stumbled forward, and suddenly she was soaked.

Rain poured from a thundering sky. Darden took another step, and her boots squelched in several centimeters of spongey, muddy ground. The air was hot and sticky, and explosions rang out in the distance over the hills of jungle. Through the thundering clouds, the sky was afire with battling ships.

An anxious, careworn woman in an orange and black uniform saluted her. "Comm says we lost another droid transport," she said. She wore a captain's decorations. "How can we break through the Mandalorian lines without support? The path is mined and the place is crawling with enemies. I know we've got our orders to press forward, but we're at quarter strength. We can't, General. It's impossible. We need to retreat."

Darden looked around. There had been five hundred of them. Now only six score remained, huddled miserably under the trees, looking out for Mandalorians…or for the beasts that stalked the jungle here.

"Dxun," Darden said heavily. "I remember we charged the line. The trees dipped blood, not water. I have nightmares about this day."

She didn't think it would make much difference admitting it to the phantasm of the Captain. She looked into the woman's face. The captain was her age, her age now. Darden saw a wedding ring on her hand, and she realized that she hadn't even known this woman's name. She had known Captain Evans, but he had already died by this time. "What's your name?" Darden asked the ghost of the Unknown Captain. "Where are you from? Who's your husband? Do you have children?" Captain Evans had had. Two. Little boys, not ten years old. He'd showed Darden the holos.

"General, it would be suicide to go forward," the Unknown Captain said, as she had said that day. "There's just too few of us! We already lost half the men just getting to the path. They've got the rest of the company pinned down by the crash site. You can't possibly ask the troops to go forward. If you ask us to move forward, will it make a difference? Will our sacrifice mean something?"

That was new. That was the departure, like Malak's had been _I sense you will join us. _But looking into the pleading gray eyes of the Unknown Captain, Darden could not forbear to answer her. She felt sick. "I—I don't know," she admitted, honestly. "Revan knew. She masterminded this battle. Afterwards, none of us could figure out exactly what she'd been doing. It was like an enormous dejarik game, but you were _dying_…" Darden's voice broke. She extended her hands helplessly. "At the end of the battle, though, we'd taken Dxun. We'd retaken Onderon."

"We…we will press forward if you ask it," the Captain said. "The path is mined. If you ask us to charge, there will be losses, General."

Darden looked at the hundred and twenty men and women cowering beneath the Dxun trees, shivering in the rain. Soldiers of the Republic. At the end of this charge, barely fifty remained. And of that fifty, more than half were terribly wounded.

Darden stared into the face of a ghost. "I know," she said. "But what I say here will not change what happened there. Do it."

"I'll tell the men, General," the Captain said, squaring her shoulders. She did not look as though she hated Darden. Indeed, she looked brave, determined. Almost…peaceful. "Everyone, you heard the General," she yelled in a loud, ringing voice. "Charge! Charge!"

Darden watched the men assemble, watched them run. She followed helplessly as they ran over the bridge over the river into the mines, as they were blown to bits. They vanished before she saw the carnage, but she remembered how it had looked then. The Unknown Captain had been one of the first to die. Her legs had been blown twelve meters away from her torso. The blasts rang out again loud and clear, though. Darden smelled the burning flesh and hair and bone. The light was nearly blinding. The explosions echoed and buzzed in her ears. Then they were firing at her, the Mandalorians. Scarcely seventy Republic soldiers remained to meet their line, but the Mandalorians were all firing at her. The bolts whistled over her head and Darden knew they would hurt every bit as much as the recruits' lightsabers and Malak's Force Lightning, if she allowed them to touch her. So she shielded, and adopted a Shien stance. And she fought. She deflected the Mandalorian blaster bolts right back under the rims of their helmets into their necks. They disappeared, and with them, the Republic soldiers.

Darden opened her mouth, trying to catch some rain. But the scene went dark again, and her mouth was still bone dry.

When Darden's eyes had adjusted to the gloom of the tomb again, she discovered that the vision had not been altogether illusory. She had crossed a bridge in the tomb like she had crossed a bridge in the vision, and under the bridge in the tomb ran an underwater creek.

Darden nearly fell in it in her urge to get to it. She brought out her canteen with shaking fingers and plunged it in the icy flow. It filled, and Darden brought the canteen to her lips.

The water was bitter, oily. Darden swallowed, though. It wouldn't kill her. Not with her training to resist poisons. Besides, she'd had worse.

But it still was bitter. Very bitter. Or maybe that was the saltwater that had run into her mouth from her eyes. Or the blood from her lips where she had bitten them nearly to raw meat.

* * *

MIRA

Mira checked her chrono for the fifth time in ten minutes. She should've known better than to let Darden go off on her own, on Korriban, even! She was a Jedi now, she was supposed to have stopped running. She was supposed to face her fears now. And Darden got into all the trouble she could, everywhere they went.

Mical had contacted them over the comm half an hour ago. At around 1500 hours, local time, Darden had entered into the tomb of an Unknown Sith Lord in the Shyrack caves north of the Valley. She had supposedly done so on the encouragement of Kreia, but as that encouragement was telepathic, Mical couldn't vouch for it. There was a wall of Dark Force energy that had kept Mical and Atton from following her. Mical and Atton were fine, except for a little hunger. But Darden had not been heard from for three hours.

That had been the case an hour ago, at least. Now it had been four. Mira was in the cockpit. The sun was setting over the Valley of the Sith Lords.

Mandalore had asked Mical what Darden's orders had been. Mical had replied that Darden had wanted the two of them to return to the _Ebon Hawk_, but they were reluctant to leave her in the shyrack caves in the tomb alone. He had added that even if he wished to return, he doubted that Atton would comply. Mira just bet. Atton was probably panicking. Mandalore had said, wait. Wait there until morning. If Darden wasn't back by then, he'd ordered Mical to knock Atton out and return to the ship. He would go to the caves with Visas and see what they could do.

It was a good plan. Mira knew that she, Bao-Dur, and the Handmaiden were unlikely to be able to access a place Atton and Mical couldn't. But Visas had been a Sith, and Mandalore couldn't feel the Force at all. They might be able to go in after her. By then, of course, it might be too late.

Mira made her way to the women's dormitory. Kreia was sitting there on the floor, legs crossed.

"If you've dragged her into something she won't come out of, lady, I swear—"

"Have you no faith in your teacher?" Kreia asked.

Mira stopped. "I think Darden can do just about anything," she said. "She's the strongest person I've ever met, and not just with the Force. But under the right circumstances, any bounty'll crack. It's you I have no faith in. She doesn't trust you."

"Then have faith that she will be on her guard against whatever I have done, if you believe that indeed I have done anything," Kreia said. "And have faith in your own senses, that she has been tuning so diligently. Have faith in your link to her. Do you sense the exile?"

Mira closed her eyes. "She's scared," she murmured, feeling Darden. "She's angry. She's tired, she's hungry…and she's…she's wounded." She opened her eyes. "But she's alive."

"Yes, and she will stay that way. Leave me, huntress."

"She better stay that way," Mira muttered. But she left.

* * *

DARDEN

The bandage on Darden's leg where the dragon had clubbed her was soaked clear through. The blood was getting onto her tightly woven armored pants. She felt the fibers of the bandage getting stuck in there. She knew it was bad for the wound, but she didn't know if she might need the other medpac she had in her pack before she got out of this hellhole. And she couldn't see the end of the road.

The wound throbbed, constantly reminding Darden it was there. Darden limped on.

Just ahead, there was a small circle of light. A lantern, like the ones they had on the _Ebon Hawk_. Like the ones Darden had been wishing really hard she had for the past…however long. "Hello?" Darden called out. Her voice was hoarse. She cleared her throat.

A figure standing in the light turned. Darden drew nearer, and blinked. It was Kreia. But Kreia as Darden hadn't ever seen her before. Her brown robe had been exchanged for a black one, and under her hood, the eyes that had been white with blindness were black with the Dark Side. There were no pupils, no irises, just blackness, even where the whites should be. Darden shuddered.

Kreia opened her withered mouth, more the color of dried blood than ever. "You are to be commended for making it this far," she said, very quietly.

"Kreia?" Darden hazarded, uncertain. "I thought you were staying on the ship. Have I been gone too long? Did you come looking for me? What's with the robe…? I…"

"You've revisited the dark moments of your past, and now you must face the present," Kreia replied.

Darden stopped. She looked around. "What…has this all been some sick test you set up?" she demanded. "Malak, Dxun…all of it?"

"Your confusion is natural. The others and I will help you understand."

"Others?" Darden said. Then she swallowed, realizing it was another vision. Except, in all the other visions, she had ended up killing everyone. "No…"

"Get away from her!" a voice cried out. "She's a Dark Jedi!"

Darden knew before she turned that it was the last person she wanted to see here, even if all of this was unreal. Sure enough, Atton stood there, eyes fixed on Kreia. He looked exactly like Darden had seen him last, in his beat-up old leather jacket, a bit paler and more tired-looking than he should be, carrying his lightsaber. He strode forward, towards Kreia, thrusting Darden behind him with strong hands that she felt, even if it was a vision.

"No," Darden rasped, then louder, "No! Atton…I know. I can handle it. Just—go away. Get out of here. I don't want to see you hurt."

Kreia snarled. "Atton, I've had enough of your snide contempt!" She activated a lightsaber. Darden didn't know where she'd got it from. It was red. Atton activated his own lightsaber.

Darden threw herself in between the two of them, ignoring the protest of pain in her leg. "Kreia, don't!" she cried.

"I will protect myself from this foul-mouthed ruffian!" Kreia declared.

"What's all the commotion here?" Bao-Dur said, stepping into the circle of light.

Darden turned to him, imploring. "Bao-Dur, thank goodness. Help me!" She could always count on Bao-Dur for support in mediating an altercation, unless Mandalore was involved.

But Kreia snapped, "Stay out of this, Bao-Dur! This is a personal dispute between Atton and myself." Her black eyes were fixed upon Atton.

Bao-Dur took in her red lightsaber. "You're threatening Atton with a lightsaber, and I'm supposed to just stay out of it?" he asked, his voice growing even softer as he grew angry. "No!"

"Don't do this," Darden begged, but Atton and Bao-Dur weren't listening. Darden looked up at the cavern roof. "Kreia, somebody, stop this!"

Darden heard a fierce beeping. She turned to see T3-M4 roll into the cavern. He took in what was happening, and his guns came out. He shrieked defiance at Kreia.

"The three of you would challenge me?" she demanded. "You sorely underestimate the power of the Force."

"Think again, Kreia! Your dark influence will end!" Atton retorted. Beside him the entire rest of the crew materialized out of the darkness. The circle of lantern light expanded to show their faces. Darden, looking around, could not see the lantern. Atton raised his lightsaber against Kreia, but it did not fall. He stood there, as if frozen, and Kreia turned to look at Darden directly for the first time since Atton had appeared.

"Your 'friends' are all allied against me," she said in a low voice that nonetheless seemed to echo through the entirety of this forsaken tomb. "Will you stand for this?"

Darden looked from one face to another of her companions, her friends, even the psychopathic droids. She wrapped her arms around herself, closed her eyes. "No," she said, and her voice was a whimper. "This isn't happening. This isn't happening. It's not real."

"Well?" Kreia pressed. Darden opened her eyes and saw with despair that Kreia and the crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ still stood, all staring at her, all waiting for her judgment.

Darden raised her hands helplessly. "Kreia, you _are_ a Dark Jedi. You have been manipulating me, don't even say you haven't."

"You of all people would judge me so?" Kreia mocked her. As she spoke, Darden saw Malachor, saw Dxun, wondered if there had been power, anger, and ambition in her heart the day she told Malak she would follow him to war. "Am I not worthy of redemption?" Her black eyes seemed to dart to Atton, and her brown-red lips lifted in a smirk.

Darden did not look at Atton. She kept her eyes upon Kreia. "Do you want it?" she asked. She shook her head. "Kreia, I'm not going to hurt you. But I'm not going to stop this, either. This isn't real. This is all an illusion. You—the real you—is on the _Ebon Hawk_ right now. All of you are."

"So you will do nothing?" Kreia said, and her voice was cold as ice now. Her face set into a terrible expression of righteous anger. "Apathy is death. Worse than death, because at least a rotting corpse feeds the beasts and insects."

Atton's lightsaber lowered slowly. He turned, dazed-looking. "Apathy is death," he repeated in a monotone. Then he raised his lightsaber again, only this time, it was leveled at Darden.

"Apathy is death," Bao-Dur mumbled.

Teethree whistled that apathy was death.

"Apathy is death," Mical said, his blue eyes glazed over.

"Apathy is death," the Handmaiden told Darden.

"Apathy is death." Visas.

"Statement: Apathy is death."

"Apathy is death." Mira.

"Apathy is death." G0-T0.

"Apathy is death," Mandalore agreed.

"Apathy is death," Kreia concluded. She raised her lightsaber. The entire crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ raised their weapons against Darden.

Darden reached for the Force, but it was not there. So she shielded, dropped, and rolled, came up, and plunged her lightsaber into G0-T0. He vanished as soon as she did, and a little of the light left the circle. Darden ducked, and Mandalore and HK-47's blaster bolts flew into the place where she had been. HK-47's hit Bao-Dur, and he vanished, too. Darden sliced through T3-M4 and fell to the ground as the Handmaiden's lightsaber flew over her head and back to the Handmaiden's hand. Darden jumped up, carving Mandalore in two. Or she would have, if the phantom hadn't vanished. HK-47 hit Visas, then, before Darden got him, too. Darden squared off against Kreia, the Handmaiden, Mira, Mical, and Atton. Her eyes were streaming. Her wound was throbbing.

Mira jumped at her first, but even in visions, she was still working on her lightsaber training. Darden thrust her saber up into Mira's abdomen, coughing as she tried not to sob. The Handmaiden ran at her again. Darden's lightsaber collided on the Handmaiden's with a fierce hum, but Mical was at her back. Darden ducked, swinging her lightsaber around to cut their legs from under them. They vanished. Atton and Kreia closed in. Darden couldn't see them clearly, she was weeping so. Kreia brought around her red lightsaber, and Darden blocked it, kicked out with an Echani move the Handmaiden had showed her, and brought her own lightsaber down on Kreia's head. Phantom-Kreia vanished, but Atton didn't go. Darden looked at him.

"Please," she cried. "Please just—"

His dark blue eyes were nearly as black as Kreia's. His bronze lightsaber arced around like a trail of fire. Darden didn't bring her lightsaber up to counter quickly enough. She diverted the blow, but it still landed, burning through armor and right arm into the muscle tissue beneath. Darden screamed. Purely instinctively, her lightsaber jerked up, and into Atton's face.

The cavern went black. Darden fell to the ground, holding her left hand over her upper right arm. She could feel the wound. It was deep. Nearly to the bone, though fortunately the Dark Side manifestation hadn't severed anything vital. Darden hissed through her teeth, feeling the blood from her leg begin to trickle into her boot again. She could taste the salt from her tears and the blood from her lips. It filled her mouth. She could smell the burnt flesh and armor from her arm. And she sobbed and sobbed and sobbed until her throat and eyes were swollen and her nose was dribbling mucus to mingle with blood and tears.

* * *

ATTON

It had to be nearly 100 hours local time. Atton's eyes burned from staring into the dark. He was exhausted, and he was starving, but he wasn't budging until Darden came out.

"Atton—Mandalore and Visas have promised they will try to infiltrate the tomb in the morning," Mical said for maybe the tenth time. "Perhaps it might be best if we return to the ship for the time being. We cannot pass beyond the barrier, and we are no good to our Master when she emerges if we are as weary and hungry as we are now."

"No one's making you stay, Blondie," Atton snapped. "I'm not leaving."

"Do you think I do not care for her, Atton?" Mical asked, sounding irritated for the first time since Atton had met him. The tone made Atton look away from the tomb door for a moment. "You are mistaken if that is what you believe. I have honored, revered Darden Leona for years longer than you have known her. I respect and esteem our Master. Enough to believe we should follow what she wanted us to do now."

"Then why haven't you followed her orders before?" Atton demanded. He laughed shortly, sharply. He didn't like the sound. "I'll tell you why. You couldn't stand it if she came out, I was here, and you weren't."

"Do not ascribe your own feelings to me!" Mical retorted. "My feelings for her are of the highest kind. Yours, on the other hand…"

"You don't know anything about me, Mical," Atton said, too tired, too worried, to really get into it with the younger man like he'd wanted to. "So do me a favor and shut the hell up. You really want to do this now?"

"I do not feel you respect our Master as she deserves," Mical persisted. "Your address towards her, your demeanor—"

Atton turned bodily to face Mical. "Fine. You want to do this? Let's do this. You're telling me you've _never_ had feelings for Darden Leona of the _lower_ kind? Not at all?"

Atton's eyes had adjusted well enough to the darkness for him to see Mical's flush. And anyway, the awkward pause would have told him everything he needed to know. "Uh-huh," he said.

"She is beautiful, it is true," Mical said. "But I would never act upon those…feelings. She is more than a woman, and we are both Jedi."

Atton sighed. "She is _exactly_ a woman, and what the hell is a Jedi anymore, anyway? Tell me that."

"You distract her from what she must do," Mical argued. "_I_ would never…"

Atton cut him off, angry. "Yeah, well neither of us may get to ever. She's in there, dealing with who knows what, and we can't…" he broke off. He threw a rock at the Force Barrier. It bounced back, and he groaned, burying his head in his hands.

He felt Mical's eyes upon him. There was a long silence. Then, "You love her," Mical said, wonderingly.

Atton was silent.

"Jedi do not—" Mical began again.

"What's a Jedi?" Atton repeated. "You're the historian, bright-eyes. You tell me about Nomi Sunrider. Tell me about Jolee Bindo, or Arren Kae. Hell, you tell me about _Revan. _Then you tell me what Darden Leona is, and what I am, and what _you_ are."

He didn't look up. He knew his words revealed that he'd looked into the question in some depth. Mical was silent, too, considering.

"Rarely do these…infatuations end well among the Jedi," he said finally.

Atton laughed harshly again. "Tell me something I don't know." He was acutely conscious of how badly this could end right here in this cave, in this tomb.

"She does not feel the same way," Mical told him stiffly.

Atton looked up then. He looked at Mical. Then he said, "I know it. I'm glad she doesn't."

Mical's gaze snapped back. "That is a lie, Atton."

"No, it's a half-truth," Atton retorted. "Here's a whole one: she doesn't feel for you what you feel for her, either."

"I know it," Mical replied immediately, so calmly that Atton didn't get much pleasure from his dig. "To the Exile, I am still the wide-eyed boy in the Enclave."

"Aren't you actually?" Atton asked him, making one more attempt at nastiness.

"Perhaps I am," Mical admitted reflectively. Atton hated him a little more for being so hard to hate. "I feel you do speak the truth, and I will tell you one in turn. She feels _more_ for you than she ever will for me."

Atton knew it. Again he said, "I wish she didn't."

"That _is_ a lie."

Despite himself, Atton smirked. "Yeah. Good call." After a moment he did say, "I am sorry, though." For what, he had no idea. For the kid's pain, maybe a little. For the whole damn situation. That they were both sitting around in a damp, dark cave waiting on the woman they both loved to maybe never come out of a tomb.

Mical seemed to understand, though. "So am I," he said.

The silence that stretched between them was part tension and worry for Darden, part mutual pain, part an agreement that they weren't moving until she did come out. Altogether, it made something like friendship.

* * *

DARDEN

Darden had found the burial chamber. Finally, finally, she'd found it. But someone else had found it first. There were two of them, dressed in black. The shorter turned around as the door behind Darden ground closed.

Darden stared. Veins instead of freckles marked the deathly pallor of this woman's skin. Her eyes were yellow instead of green. But Darden recognized herself in the short, thick, choppy, dark brown hair, in the diminutive stature, the strong nose and the full lips. The features she knew so well were twisted in a mockery of the Dark Side.

"What…what is this?" Darden rasped, struggling to lift her lightsaber. She couldn't support it with her wounded right arm. "Why are you here?"

"The question is, why _aren't_ you?" Dark-Darden answered herself in low, reasonable tones unwearied by hours of battle and pain in a dark cave. "Come, you're _good_ at this. It's not too late."

She referred to the rush Darden felt at a battle well-executed, the part of her that saw people as statistics and men as machines. She meant that sometimes, Darden was little more than a machine herself, a machine of war, of death, of total destruction. Why deny what she was? Wasn't it the Dark Side, in its simplest form? The Darkness pulled at Darden. She remembered all the destruction she had caused over the years, all the pain and death. She looked into her own eyes, and Dark-Darden smirked at her.

"Embrace it," she said. "Give in. You are no Jedi. They knew that, they stripped you of that title years ago. What do you owe them? More, what do you owe yourself? You are a liar, Darden Leona. You are a hypocrite. You are emptiness. You are a _catastrophe_. Own it. Live it. Embrace the power of the Dark Side."

Darden looked into her own face. She raised her lightsaber with her left hand, grateful for Visas' lessons. "No!" she cried out.

Dark-Darden vanished, and the second figure turned around. The figure clutched two lightsabers in heavy black gauntlets. The figure was enveloped in loose, flowing black robes specifically chosen to make the body beneath them look taller, more powerful and more mysterious. And the mask of the Mandalorian female dissenter worn beneath the hood identified an idea, not a person. But Darden knew the person beneath it all, knew the woman beneath it all. She swallowed, suddenly uncertain of all that had happened her.

"Revan?" she croaked. "Is this you? Have you done all this?"

Revan regarded her impassively.

Darden's voice rose. "We agreed, it was over! You said I was nothing, that you didn't need me, and you certainly wouldn't waste your time trying to wreak revenge on a shell of a human being. What do you want with me?"

She was almost shouting.

Revan activated her double sabers, both as red as a laigrek's eye.

Darden shifted her saber so her primary grip upon it was left-handed, moving her stance accordingly. She raised her lightsaber into a Niman position, unsure what would happen. Revan attacked.

Darden parried, blocked, countered. She fought with Revan as she had done all those years ago, in the beginning of the war, when Revan had personally taken her on.

_"You show some promise, midget," she'd said, panting through the mask. "Kavar was your Master? I understand why he chose you."_

_ Darden had felt an interesting mixture of pride and irritation. Revan was no older than she was, but she was so very much more accomplished. So much brighter, so much braver."That's over now."_

_ "He will come," Revan had said. "He'll see we're right. And if he doesn't, he'll regret it. Now. You need to move your feet more. Your form's great, but you have a ronto-headed tendency to hold your ground when just about every enemy you're ever going to face is much bigger and heavier than you are. When we go into combat, they'll use that against you. They'll use their height and weight to back you up and pin you down, and then they'll kill you. So you don't stay put and let them do it. You're smaller than they are, but I'll bet my lucky pazaak card you're faster, too."_

Darden wasn't faster now. She was limping from her leg wound, impaired in her lightsaber movement by her arm wound. Blocking Revan's strokes sent shockwaves down her arms, and her nerves screamed in pain.

_"Get up, Leona," she'd said. "So you lost this one. You learned something, right?"_

_ "I don't think I'm cut out for this," Darden had said, without rising from her cot. "Maybe Talvon…?"_

_ "Talvon's reckless. He enjoys this too much. You're efficient, and you die every time you lose a soldier. That means they die for you. Get up."_

_ "I want to go home."_

_ "What did you think this was, Leona? What did you think we'd be doing? You're the best commander I've got out here, including Alek, though don't you dare tell him that. But now you're behaving like some Senate princess. Get up!"_

_ Darden had stood then, intrigued by the strained note in Revan's voice, behind the mask. "Commander, are you—are you-?"_

_ Revan had taken off the mask then. Darden didn't remember now how she had looked, only that for the first and only time she had looked at Revan and seen a young woman every bit as human and every bit as scared as she was. And she'd seen that Revan had been crying, too. _

_ "We can't let them see, Leona," Revan had said. "Not for a minute. They get up in the morning for us, they fight and die for us. Because they think we're stronger, because they think we're what they want to be. And we need them to fight, because we need to win this war. So we can't let them see."_

_ "Yes, Commander."_

_ Revan had looked at her then. "Kneel."_

_ Darden had knelt. With that odd authority that only she had, Revan had made her a Jedi Knight. Darden wasn't quite sure it was legal. But she'd been damn sure that it had meant more than when the Republic had made her a General a year later with a ceremony and everything. _

It was getting harder to fight her off. Revan was fresh, unwounded. Darden's muscles ached. Her wounds throbbed. Her leg had started bleeding again. Revan came on, remorseless.

_"I just…we won, Revan. It's over. Don't you think it's time to go home, clean up, make things right?"_

_ "Things will never be right, Leona, until weakness is obliterated and the Republic is made strong."_

_ "That's not what you said when we started."_

_ "Things have changed. Is this your decision then? You are abandoning us?"_

_ "No! Never! Not…not who you were, what you stood for. But you're right. Things have changed. You're different, Revan. Alek…he really is Malak, now. And now you're going to war against the Jedi? Against the Republic? I won't fight you, ever. But I won't fight with you, either."_

_ Revan had looked at her. For a single moment, Darden had thought the person in the robes and behind the mask might pity her. But she could feel nothing. She felt nothing. All around, she felt death, and Revan stood as straight and unyielding as death. "You couldn't fight if you wanted to, Leona. Not now. You stand here now, you speak, but you're dead. You died at Malachor. Go. Run to the Jedi, and see what welcome you receive. I don't need you."_

_ Darden couldn't weep, couldn't speak out against the harsh words. "You won't—"_

_ "I won't stop you," Revan said. "Your warning won't stop our Fleet, and I certainly won't waste my time trying to wreak revenge on the shell of the woman that was once my friend and ally. Go."_

_ Darden had sighed, and stepped out the airlock, over into her small fighter. "Goodbye, Revan."_

_ Later she had convinced herself she'd imagined Revan saying quietly, "Bye, midget. I can't say May the Force be With You, because it's not, but may you find the peace you seek, anyway."_

Revan had forced Darden to her knees. She raised her sabers in an 'X', ready to bring them down across Darden's throat. Desperately, in the split-second she had, Darden thrust her lightsaber up into Revan's heart. Revan vanished, and Darden collapsed. Another vision. Just another vision.

She lay on the floor of the burial chamber, panting.

_"You've succeeded in this trial," _a dry voice whispered into her mind. _"I am impressed." _

_ "So it was you," _Darden thought back at Kreia. _"It's _always _you. Was I supposed to learn something, Kreia?" _

_ "Sometimes, a momentary insight is worth lifetimes of experience. You may not yet understand what you learned here. That wisdom will come in the future." _

Darden staggered to her feet and bit back a curse. _"Take a walk out the airlock without a suit! What the hell? This tomb…I feel dirty."_

_ "You overestimate the power of the tomb." _Kreia's voice in the back of her mind sounded amused, and satisfied. _"Any change you feel is coming from within yourself. Instinctually, you know your true path. Trust in your feelings. They will lead you in conquering the many challenges that the future holds for you."_

Darden sent Kreia a mental image of a very rude gesture. _"Should I trust _my_ feelings, though, or the feelings you want me to have, or the feelings you wanted Her to have?" _She shook her head, feeling dizzy, and utterly, utterly exhausted. _"Just—get out of my head. And stay out."_

_ "Don't be a fool. You're wounded. There is a secret exit…"_

With nearly the last of her strength, Darden 'pushed' Kreia out of her mind viciously. Then, swallowing, she stumbled off into the dark.

* * *

MICAL

Mical's chrono read 700 hours when Atton gave a cry. Mical started from a daze, and stood. The Force barrier rippled, then gave, and a small, bedraggled figure staggered out.

She looked like she hadn't slept for far more than a single night. She looked like she had been fighting demons for a week. Her green eyes were bloodshot, swollen from tears and trying to see in the dark. Her lips were gnawed nearly clear through, and blood, tears, and mucus had formed their respective trails on her dirty face. Her hair had shyrack dung in it. Worse, she was limping badly. Mical looked down and saw her lower left pant leg was soaked clear through with blood. There were scorch marks on her breastplate…and…and her right arm was hanging oddly. As she came closer, Mical took in air between his teeth. He could see clear down to the white bone through a deep lightsaber gash. The cauterized flesh was black and brown around it.

She seemed to see him, then. Her lips parted. "Didn't I tell you I'd see you back at the E_bon Hawk_?" she said in a raspy shred of her voice. "Mical…"

Then she saw Atton. Her eyes widened, and she let out a choking gasp of a sob. Atton ran forward, and got to her just as she collapsed, rendered unconscious from utter exhaustion. Atton caught her, picked her up.

"Get my pack," Atton said. "I've got her."

_There is no emotion: there is peace. _Mical repeated the words in his mind, trying to expel both worry and a completely inappropriate envy.

"Of course," he replied. "She'll need to go straight to the med bay."

"Then let's get moving!" Atton said grimly.

Mical picked up Atton's pack, then transmitted to the _Ebon Hawk_."Mical to the _Ebon Hawk_. Are you receiving?"

"Receiving. This is Mira. What've you got?"

"She's back. We're bringing her home. Over and out."

* * *

**A/N: So. I am very pleased with how this turned out, even if it is a little more graphically violent than I usually write. I think I conveyed the emotion of the scene quite well, as well as what others might have been thinking at the time.**

**Coming Soon: Darden Leona's training is over, but her task is not. Darden returns to Dantooine to join the reunited Jedi Order. It's her move, in her long dejarik game with her opponent. **

**Read and Review, and May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	32. Student No More

**Disclaimer: Do I own KotOR II? No, I don't. That's why Revan's a girl and I'm not getting paid for this.**

* * *

XXXI.

Student No More

DARDEN

Faces flickered through Darden Leona's consciousness. People she'd killed. People she'd ordered dead. Visions and phantasms. Xase. Nitotsa. People she'd left behind. She saw Malak. She saw Revan. Sometimes Revan was masked. Sometimes Darden seemed to see a flash of curling chestnut hair, or golden brown eyes, like the vision of the laughing woman she had seen in the cave on Dantooine. But the golden eyes never laughed when they looked at Darden. They wept, or worse, they stared stonily back at her, and then they disappeared behind the mask again. Sometimes Darden saw her own face, veined and paled by the Dark Side, challenging her. Sometimes she saw Kreia. And always, always, she saw Malachor.

Sometimes she seemed to see other faces. Different ones, ones that didn't mock or blame her. These faces had brows furrowed with worry, and lips pressed firm with concentration. Visas and Mical. Whenever Darden saw these faces, she was briefly cognizant of a terrible pain. Her leg throbbed. Her arm burned, and her mouth was hot and dry. She'd feel a sharp needle. Then a heaviness would fall upon her, and right before she started to panic, she'd slip into another nightmare.

Sometimes Atton was there. Phantom-Atton, carving her open again with a blank face. _Apathy is death. _And she wanted to scream that what she felt for him wasn't anything like apathy, wasn't even close, but the words wouldn't pass her numb lips. Sometimes she saw two of him: Phantom-Atton, and real-Atton, watching, ashen, as his bronze lightsaber passed through her. And always, always, she killed him. Phantom-Atton, real-Atton. She killed him, just like the others. And Darden Leona felt that the Force had abandoned her. She wept and screamed like a child, a lost, forsaken, broken soul.

Except her lips wouldn't open and her limbs wouldn't move. She couldn't fight, she couldn't run, and she couldn't hide. Darden lay helpless, naked in the darkness of her mind. And she had a vague feeling it didn't matter. Not really. It was all over, anyway. It had been over for years. Who she was and how she felt was irrelevant. She was nothing, and certainly the Force didn't care, didn't even recognize her. The Force was gone.

Ludo Kressh. The name had been on the sarcophagus of that damned Sith Lord. It wasn't particularly important, but Darden thought if she'd spent an age in a hellhole she certainly wasn't going to keep calling it the Unknown Tomb. His name had been Ludo Kressh.

Hers had been Darden Leona. Now it was the Exile.

* * *

THREE DAYS LATER

The woman on the medical cot opened her eyes. There was a slight grogginess in her system. She'd been drugged. She was cold. Someone had taken her armor. She tried to move and found that she could. She'd been cleaned and undressed. She was wearing…Republic issue underwear. That was weird. She hadn't worn that in months. And that old gray tunic. She wondered whose idiotic idea that wardrobe change had been. She was hungry.

She'd been in the tomb of some Sith Lord on Korriban…Ludo Kressh. Now she wasn't. Nightmares swirled around her, trying to assert themselves in the waking world. They always did. The woman took several deep breaths, feeling the cold current of air from the hall outside the med bay door. Down the hall, the hyperdrive was humming. She heard a slight catch in it. She smiled. When would Atton, Bao-Dur, and T3-M4 get around to fixing that, anyway? She felt the energy of the hyperdrive.

She felt it.

She felt the energy all around the _Ebon Hawk_. She felt the Force. It was there, still there. Darden Leona blinked, and the nightmares dispelled. She sat up.

Her tunic fell open, and Darden realized they hadn't fastened the underwear. She moved to do so, and realized her chest wound was gone. The skin over her sternum was completely unblemished. Darden fastened her underwear and tied her tunic shut. Then she extended her left leg. That was healed completely, too. Darden shivered. Hadn't anyone thought of pants? Or at least of putting the sheet over her? She wrapped her arms around herself, and stopped.

Just when she'd begun thinking that all that had happened in the tomb of Ludo Kressh had been an illusion. There was a bandage on her right arm. Darden took it off.

Something had been real, anyway. Raw tissue and musculature was clearly visible from a half-healed gash on her upper right arm. It had probably been deep. The Force had been used to heal it, over several sessions from people still learning the technique. Darden could still sense the energy echoes over the wound. Some antibacterial ointment had been applied to it. Darden flexed, and the wound began to bleed through the open, raw flesh. Darden raised an eyebrow, feeling how deep the wound had gone. Near to the bone, it seemed.

She had memories of a vision where a phantom-Atton had attacked her with a lightsaber. Could it be that…?

Darden took another deep breath. Whatever had happened back in the tomb of Ludo Kressh, it was over now. She reached for the Force. Through it, she spoke to her skin. The cells knit together over the wound, healing her arm entirely. Darden put the used bandage in the hazardous materials disposal box.

There was a canteen on the medical table. Her canteen. Darden reached for it, poured a little of the substance in it on her hand. Water. Fresh water. She drank deeply.

Footsteps rounded the corner, and Mical came into the med bay. His eyes lit up. "Ah. I thought that you would wake sometime today, Master," he said.

"How long have I been out?"

"You have been unconscious these three days," Mical informed her. "We were all quite worried about you."

"We left Korriban," Darden said. "Where are we going?"

"We are en route to Dantooine," Mical answered. As he spoke he took up a thermometer from the nearby table. Darden tilted her head so he could take her temperature. "We judged it best to leave Korriban," Mical explained, "And the others felt that you would most likely wish to return to Master Vrook, to wait for the others there." He looked at the thermometer's read-out, seemed satisfied, and took Darden's wrist in his right hand. Looking at his chrono, he calculated her pulse.

"Good," Darden said. "I did want to go back to Dantooine. You know a little something about healing, beyond the Force techniques I've showed you, don't you?"

Mical inclined his head.

"You drugged me."

Mical released her wrist and bowed. "I do not know if you realize how badly off you were when you emerged from the cave—"

"The tomb of Ludo Kressh," Darden interrupted him.

"Of course," Mical said, turning to the nearby supply barrel, opening it, and removing the gray pants that Darden had worn with this tunic for years in exile. Darden grimaced, but put them on gratefully, nonetheless. Mical continued. "When you emerged from the tomb of Ludo Kressh, you were very badly injured. You had sustained severe blood loss through a hssiss wound in your lower left leg, in addition to a fairly serious scorch on your chest and a deep lightsaber wound on your arm. Your body had gone into shock from the pain. You were also dehydrated, fevered, and delirious."

A shadow passed across Mical's normally placid face, and he sat down opposite the cot in the med bay chair. "We feared for your life. Master…why did you not use the Force to heal yourself?"

His eyes flicked to the pulled down right shoulder of Darden's tunic, to her unblemished upper arm. "You seem to have no difficulties now."

"It was different in there," Darden told him. "I couldn't use the Force. At least, it felt that way. I've been sitting here, wondering how much of it was even real…apparently more than I thought."

Mical's eyes lit up with interest. "I do wonder why…" he trailed off.

"Me, too," Darden replied, looking out the door of the med bay. "It was a place strong with the Dark Side. Very strong. It could be that the Dark Side was just too strong there for me to function without giving in to its influence. Because I didn't. At least, I don't think I did." Darden paused, laced her fingers together tightly. "It could be that the person behind whatever happened in that place didn't want me using the Force there."

"It is said that the spirits of these Dark Lords sometimes still inhabit their tombs," Mical mused. "Perhaps the Dark influence of Ludo Kressh was strong enough that…"

Darden cut him off. "I wasn't talking about Ludo Kressh," she said. "But that's a problem for later. Let's stick to right now. How did I get here? How did I get away from the tomb? I don't remember leaving the cave."

Something else passed over Mical's face. "You managed to escape the tomb on your own," he said, in a voice just a little bit cooler than his normal warm tenor. "Atton and I returned you to the _Ebon Hawk._"

"You disobeyed the orders I gave you to return." It wasn't a question. Mical opened his mouth to protest. Darden held up a hand. "No. You don't have to tell me. You did the right thing, staying with him. It's one of the first things an officer learns: don't issue an order that won't be obeyed. Your disobedience probably saved my life."

Mical looked away. "We returned you here," he continued, without replying to Darden's remark. "Mira and the Handmaiden washed you and changed you into clothing more…suitable for your state of health. Atton flew us away from Korriban immediately. I put you on fluids, and yes, I did sedate you. In your delirium, considering your delicate condition, I judged it to be the safest course of action. I feared you would harm yourself. We have worked since trying to heal you."

"You and—Visas, right?" Darden said, remembering moments of clarity in her three-days' stupor.

"Atton as well, at first," Mical said. "Later…" he cleared his throat.

Darden was unsurprised at who had helped to heal her, fuzzy memories aside. Visas had considerable experience healing with the Force, though before she had done her healing through the Dark Side, a quicker, easier technique, but one that drew upon the life force of other beings. Still, it was helping her catch on to the Light Side technique more rapidly. Mical had a talent for Force healing, added to apparently prior medical knowledge. And Atton had…well, he had extensive knowledge of anatomy, also obtained for a darker purpose, but as useful in healing the body as in causing it pain. Her other three apprentice's skills lay elsewhere.

Darden looked over her unbroken skin again. "The three of you did well," she said. "You're only just learning the techniques. You had to get rid of infection, regrow the veins, arteries, muscle and skin. I'm not surprised it took you three days at your current level." She frowned. "Didn't Kreia help, though?"

Mical's blue eyes clouded over, as if he'd only just thought of that. "That is what Atton asked," he said, faintly puzzled. "Is she a skilled healer? He asked me to ask her, because they are not…on the best of terms. Strange. I forgot…Forgive me, Master. Perhaps you could have been well much sooner."

Darden studied his face. It wasn't the first time she'd noticed how Mical always seemed to forget about Kreia's existence and abilities, though he exhibited no such thoughtlessness anywhere else. She pressed her lips together. "I'm sure you did the best you can."

"I judged you well enough to stop the narcotics last night," Mical finished. He looked into her eyes steadily. "You had—terrible nightmares."

"I always do," Darden said curtly. Her stomach growled. "But I don't want to talk about them. I'm starving. Fluids or not, I haven't eaten for three days. More even. I need some food. Now."

She slid off the medical cot to her feet. Her knees wobbled at first, then straightened. Darden regarded Mical.

"Hey—thanks for saving me," she said.

She started to go, but Mical stood, and caught her arm.

He appeared to go through a brief, difficult struggle with himself. "Master, when I say you had terrible nightmares…I do not exaggerate. These three days—it was truly frightening. And you were not silent." He paused, seemed to struggle again, then continued. "Some of what you said was incoherent. Especially the first few hours. Some of the names you called out were the names of those long ago dead or gone. However, sometimes…the worst times, you said our names. The crew. The way you said them…I will never forget. But three names you said most often." He spoke slowly, haltingly.

Darden's stomach dropped. "Revan," she murmured.

Mical nodded.

"Kreia," Darden continued. His mouth twisted.

"Yes. Revan, Kreia, and…"

"Atton," Darden finished. "He heard?"

"All of us did," Mical said, avoiding her eyes. "Hearing you say his name again and again…in _that_ way…"

"Because of a nightmare," Darden said for him, feeling sick. "And he stopped coming to the med bay. " She swore, viciously, and broke free of Mical's grip. At the door, she paused, and looked back. "Thanks for telling me, Mical. I—I'm sorry. I'll see you tonight."

* * *

LATER

The crew greeted her gladly. Mira hugged her so tightly Darden stared at the once-cold former bounty hunter. Visas took her face between two cold, slender hands and kissed her on both cheeks. The Handmaiden immediately brought her lunch and would not leave her side. Bao-Dur gave a curt, 'General', but kept smiling every five seconds. Mandalore just about winded her with the force of his gauntleted clap on the back. T3-M4 chirped on about how he was so happy the others had fixed her and she was fully functional once more, and even HK-47 and G0-T0 seemed relieved she hadn't been terminated, though neither would say so, exactly.

No one met her eyes, though. And no one asked. _What happened in that tomb? _And neither Kreia nor Atton emerged from their respective hangouts.

So that evening, after exercising with the Handmaiden to gain her strength back and taking her place in the chore list once more by cleaning the floor of the main hold, Darden took supper to Kreia.

She sat down the tray in front of the old woman. "So," she said. "I passed."

Kreia sniffed. "Indeed. Though if the fool had not insisted on remaining against orders, your delay when I would have helped you out might have cost you your life, and therefore, mine." Despite her disdain, she picked up her eating utensil.

Darden moved over to her footlocker to begin to change out of her exile notice-me-not oversized gray. "If you were so worried about my life you might have helped Mical and the others to heal me," she pointed out, pulling her gray tunic over her head and pulling on a crisp white shirt instead.

"Would you have wished me to help?" Kreia asked. Darden could hear the old woman curling her lip, even though her back was to Kreia.

She changed her pants and pulled on her boots. "Have you withheld help in the past because I didn't want it?"

Silence, followed by chewing. Kreia had addressed herself to her lunch.

Darden pulled on a hooded pale green robe she'd found folded up with the supplies from Dantooine last time. Neat, exactly her size. A relic from the Enclave someone in Khoonda had saved, then gratefully supplied her with. Darden put her belt on over the robe and found her lightsaber in her footlocker. She activated it, and the silver blade slid out with a hum.

Kreia stopped eating.

Darden deactivated her lightsaber and attached it to her belt. She turned back around to face Kreia, and sat opposite her on the floor. "You said in the tomb that I might not understand then what I had learned. I think I know it now, if you care to hear."

Kreia lifted her head slightly, but did not reply.

Darden held the old woman's faded gaze. "The past is over and done with," she said in a measured voice. "I have done what I have done, and it is no use thinking on it, wondering how things might have been if only I had done this or that instead. It is no use running from the past, and pointless to be afraid of it. It is a memory, a nightmare. And now I do not fear it. I do not fear what more I may learn of the past, or of the future, if I continue on Revan's path. I do not even fear the Dark Side in me. "

"No? What, then, do you fear?" Kreia asked.

"You know what I fear," Darden told her. "You've always known. I'm afraid of what I might do to my friends. You're right: they're my weakness."

Kreia wiped her lips with a napkin. "And will this epiphany change anything?"

Darden held her ground. In a firm, even voice, she answered. "No."

"You are quite resolute?"

"I am."

Darden was surprised to see Kreia's lips curve upward. "It is good," she murmured. "Very good, both that you are aware of your weakness, and that you will not allow it to alter your path. Never doubt yourself, exile. Never retrace your steps. Let this be your final lesson."

Darden shivered. "You don't believe in redemption, do you?" she asked.

"My beliefs are irrelevant. It is your choices that matter. It always has been."

"But you don't believe in redemption. More than that, you don't even believe in repentance, or regret."

As she spoke the words, Darden felt them to be true, though the old woman made no reply in word or thought or motion. Once, the revelation might have angered Darden. Once, Kreia might have tried to press this disbelief onto her. But Darden knew they were past that now. Whatever Darden had become, Kreia would no longer interfere with it. At the same time, Darden knew that things were far from over between herself and Kreia. Darden had been afraid of her teacher. She distrusted her now more than ever. But after the tomb, though, after the trials, Darden Leona felt no fear for herself looking at this old woman. Instead, she felt a desperate sort of pity. It was one thing to realize that the past was in the past and that it was pointless to try to change or second-guess it. It was entirely another matter to despair of any future alteration, to scorn remorse and deny any opportunity of redemption.

Darden shifted so that she was kneeling before the old woman, leaning forward. "Kreia, I don't know what you are," she whispered. "I don't know what's going to happen now. I know I'm not everything you would have me be, nor would I want to be so. But you've taught me, regardless. You say you want to protect me. I feel…I feel you care for me, if you do not care for a single other living thing in the galaxy, now that Revan is gone." She stumbled over her words. She swallowed. Kreia's jaw had hardened, and her skin had turned white.

Darden pressed on. She extended a hand to Kreia's one hand, touching it tentatively. "The Dark Side obscures my vision," she confessed, "And I don't have your gift of foresight. I've never had that talent. Hell, Mira, as inexperienced and untutored as she is, is far better than I'll ever be. But…but something bad is coming. I feel that much. And I'm not sure that it has to, Kreia. I know you don't believe in redemption. But…do you believe in me? Do you believe in Revan? Can you…will you let that be enough for you?"

Darden didn't know entirely what she was asking. But she felt it had to be asked, nonetheless. She felt this nameless dread of what was coming, and she felt that she must appeal to Kreia. For what, she didn't know. But she had to try.

Kreia was silent for a long, long moment. Darden tried to meet her sightless eyes underneath the shadowed hood. She pressed at the barrier between their two minds. Kreia shivered. For one, fleeting moment, Darden felt that she might get through, that she had pressed upon the old woman what it was so important that she know.

Then the moment passed.

Kreia withdrew her hand from Darden's, and turned away. "It is my task to protect you, not yours to protect me," she said. "I do not ask for your pity. I do not look to you for salvation. We must go to Dantooine. There is something there that you must hear, if you are to understand."

Darden dropped her gaze. Her stomach seemed to turn to stone, and her heart cried out for she knew not what. The iron hand of inescapable destiny seemed to clamp about the back of her neck, guiding her forward once more. "We are going to Dantooine," she said. "Atton will get us there as fast as he can. What do I need to understand?"

Kreia pushed her half-eaten tray away. "I have no time for questions. Not now. Leave me. I am weary."

Darden took the tray and stood. "So be it."

* * *

LATER

They were all there when Darden walked into the garage, waiting. She smiled. "Wondered if I'd be allowed to teach lessons tonight, considering," she said.

Mical looked at her. "You really should not exert yourself, Master," he said.

"No," she said. "Not tonight. I need you all to sit down."

Darden's six pupils exchanged looks, but nevertheless sat down in a circle. Darden sat down with them. Without prelude, she began.

"I saw my past and present through the lens of the Dark Side. All the things I've done that I regret, all the times I've second guessed since, and wondered if what I did was necessary, or if somehow I _had_ been perverted by the Dark Side."

It affected Bao-Dur most strongly at first. She'd known that it would. Among all of them, the Zabrak could picture most clearly what she might have seen. He flinched. "General. You don't have to—"

"I do," she cut him off. "It's important that all of you know this right now."

The Handmaiden nodded. She gripped Bao-Dur's shoulder. "Then tell us, Darden," she said quietly.

"I saw all those moments," Darden continued, "And it seemed that I _had_ been perverted by the Dark Side. Everyone I ever killed or ordered killed, I killed again."

Now Atton was the one to blanch. Again, Darden had known that he would. She looked at him, then let her gaze pass over him, addressing everyone. "Then, I saw Kreia."

Armor squeaked. Mandalore was listening at the door.

"What did you see?" Visas asked.

Darden looked at the Miraluka. Visas and Atton were the only ones she'd explicitly told of her suspicions about Kreia. She thought all of them knew, though.

"Everything I've always suspected," Darden said.

And apparently they _hadn't_ all known. Mical frowned. Mandalore shifted. He took off his helmet to regard her with piercing eyes.

"What have you suspected, Leona?" he spoke up from the door.

"Understand this was a vision. A manifestation of the Dark Side," Darden qualified. "I'm not saying that she _is, _or that she means us harm, but in that tomb, Kreia was revealed as a Sith. And things had come to a head. You had decided to confront her."

"We were there as well?" the Handmaiden asked.

Darden took in a shaky breath. Mical, on her left, started to move. She shook her head at him. "You were," she continued, keeping her voice firm. "There was about to be battle. I stood between you, between the entire crew, and Kreia. You were ready to strike her down. And she asked me then if I would defend her, if I believed she deserved a chance of redemption."

Visas went very, very still. The Handmaiden's eyes narrowed. Bao-Dur shot a look at Mandalore. Mira drew designs on the floor with one blue-painted nail. Her jaw was tight. Mical looked at Atton. But Atton's gaze was riveted on Darden. A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Did you say you would? Defend her, I mean." His voice ground out like gravel. Darden felt long-suppressed hatred and fear emanating from him like a wave. But she also felt his deep consciousness of his debt to her for the grace she had extended to him. And Darden knew that Atton honestly had no idea what he wanted her to say.

Darden hesitated. Then she answered. "No. I said I wouldn't."

Everyone opened their mouths, and Darden cut them off, speaking more loudly. "But neither would I help you strike her down! Then she said—"Darden shivered. "She said: _Apathy is death. Worse than death, because at least a rotting corpse feeds the beasts and insects. _And I saw every one of your eyes go blank and your faces go slack. You repeated after her: _Apathy is death. _You turned away from Kreia, and you attacked me."

The words hung in the air, more terrible than the silence on Korriban.

Everyone broke it at once.

"It was a vision, correct? Just a vision…"

"General, I would never…"

"If you think that old woman could turn _me _around like that…"

"Yeah, but it was just a vision, Dar. We didn't actually—"

"The wounds," Mical broke in, looking all at once as if he'd aged five years. Everyone fell silent. "The scorch mark, the…the lightsaber gash."

"The scorch mark was where the 'vision' of Darth Malak hit me with Force Lightning," Darden told them. "Look, I don't know how it happened. What I saw in the tomb of Ludo Kressh were visions, yes, but they had all the power and malice of the Dark Side behind them. And when I had the vision of you turning on me, I had to kill you _all_, or die."

Her voice broke. Her face grew hot, and her eyes stung. "I hesitated," she grit out. "Just once. When I did—"Darden raised her hand to the place on her arm where she'd been wounded by the phantom-lightsaber. "There was more," she admitted. "But it didn't matter, and I don't need to tell you about it. I needed to tell you this, though. You needed to know about that vision."

"Why?" the Handmaiden asked. Her face was as light as her hair and eyes. Her mouth was thin. "Why would you tell us this? Is this a threat? A warning? You know that all of us here are loyal to you."

"We wouldn't hurt you, Dar," Mira seconded.

"No. That's not what I meant, and that's not why I saw that vision," Darden told them. "I know it was a vision, a nightmare, and I trust everyone in this room. My fear is not that you guys will hurt me." She hesitated, then continued. "Someone once told me—if you want to take down a Jedi, don't go for her directly. Take out the Padawans. You, all of you, you are my joy. I am so, so very proud of you. It's been so long since I have been close to anyone, let _anyone_ in. But now I have, and these connections between all of us, between the New Jedi Order, are stronger than any I have _ever_ made, except with one other, long ago. If anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do. But worse than that, worse than anything, would be if _I_ hurt you, like I hurt the others, my friends, my soldiers. And that is my fear. You need to know that. You are my strength. But you are my greatest weakness."

Darden looked around at the organic crew of the _Ebon Hawk_, minus Kreia. They looked back at her.

"Something bad is coming, isn't it?" Mira asked.

"I think so. Just—be ready, when it comes."

"I shall be," the Handmaiden promised. She bowed from her seat. One by one the others agreed, promising to be prepared when danger came.

"Class dismissed," Darden said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Slowly, everyone got up and left, with shoulder squeezes or murmured thanks. Finally, only Atton was left.

He wouldn't look at her. Darden walked in silence with him back to the cockpit. When they got there she faced him. He waited until the sounds of people moving faded as the crew settled into their respective favorite places across the ship. Then he began in a low, hollow voice.

"It was me, wasn't it? In the vision. You hesitated before killing me, and I damn near cut your arm off."

For a moment, Darden considered lying to him. Like it was her worst fear that she would destroy her friends, it was his worst fear that he would end up hurting her. He was terrified that even after everything, deep inside, he was still a murderer at heart, and he'd end up murdering again, after he'd finally learned to care.

Atton seized her upper arm, where she'd been wounded. She didn't flinch. It was healed now, anyway. "Don't lie to me," he warned, eyes darkening. His grip was too tight. It hurt. Darden didn't wince. She stared into his face through the shadows of the darkened cockpit.

"It was a phantom," she said levelly. "A vision. A nightmare. It wasn't you. And it will _never_ be you."

"Damn right," he said. "Damn right." He loosened his grip, but he didn't release her. He just looked at her. His eyes were shadowed. He looked as though he hadn't slept in a week. After a moment, he pulled her to him roughly and held her there.

Darden let him hold her. She closed her eyes against his jacket and just relaxed into him for a moment. It couldn't be longer than that, because this was the _Ebon Hawk_, she was filled past capacity, and they were in hyperspace. It couldn't be longer than that, because they had stuff to do, and something bad was coming. But the meaning behind the tension that had been present between Darden and Atton from day one, behind her fear for his fate, and her preference for his company above all others had become clear to her in the tomb of Ludo Kressh. All the feelings had cemented into a resolve, a promise, best expressed in three words she had never said to anyone, not _that_ way. The words were fully formed in the recesses of Darden's heart, like she knew they were in Atton's, but her mouth couldn't make them sound any more than his could.

The moment passed, and Atton released her. He forced a smile. "Hey, next time you feel like going into the beast-infested tomb of a Sith Lord, at least make sure you take me along, okay? I could've spent that time waiting for you doing something more…" he couldn't finish. His grin looked more like a grimace. He sat down in the pilot's seat. "_So_. Dantooine. You think they'll be there?"

"I don't know. But I have a bad feeling about this. How about you?"

Atton shrugged. "I have a bad feeling about everything these days. We're always in the middle of civil wars and manhunts and people are always hunting us." He laughed. "But hey. None of us have died yet, and at least I'm never bored."

"Is it really so bad?" Darden asked him.

Atton met her eyes. He sighed, then smiled. "Nah. It isn't so bad. In fact, I think all of us have it pretty good. You get the worst of things, as the 'General'."

"I'm not your General," Darden said. "You don't follow my orders. You're always there to save my ass even when I tell you to get out. Thanks."

"Anytime," Atton said. "Look, Mical'll probably be after me to make sure you get some sleep. You just got up today, after all."

"Are you all right?" Darden asked.

Atton looked away. "Better now that you're up," he admitted. "Seeing you in the cave, in the med bay…it was...bad."

"He told me you took it badly," Darden said. "My talking…"

Atton grimaced. "_Not _the way I'd pictured you saying my name," he said lightly, but his fingers tapped at the armrest, and that muscle in his cheek was twitching again.

"It wasn't you," Darden repeated. "It will never be you. I know you. I trust you." She stopped there, but he heard the words she wasn't saying.

"Pazaak?" he asked after a moment.

Darden looked at him. Then, carefully, she sat down on the arm of his chair, half in his lap, half in the empty air. "No," she said. "Just…can you hold me? Just for a while?"

For a second, Darden thought he was going to refuse, thought that she might be asking too much of him right now. But he nodded. "Sure, sweetheart. Sure."

He shifted, making room for her, and pulled her down beside him, wrapping his arms around her. Darden leaned back into Atton's grip, and the two of them looked out into the hyperspace tunnel, as the _Ebon Hawk_ made its way back to Dantooine.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, so I was blocked. I've rewritten this chapter a dozen times and I still don't quite like how it turned out. In the meantime I have graduated college, changed my residence, and begun a job search. So…that's that. I will do my best to finish this in the next few weeks. **

**Coming…Eventually: Darden Leona returns to Dantooine to find the Jedi have returned. The Council has reconvened. But what was supposed to be a council of war, a meeting to determine how best to face the Sith threat, Darden discovers is more of a sentencing. Does the Council truly want to confront the Sith? Or do they merely wish to blame an Exile for the state of the Order? **

**Read and Review!**

**May the Force be with You,**

**LMSharp **


	33. The Scapegoat

**Disclaimer: I don't own KotOR II. So there.**

* * *

XXXII.

The Scapegoat

THE HANDMAIDEN

She had sent the message to Atris weeks ago. The Jedi were found. Atris could come to Dantooine. And yet there had been no word from her mistress, none from her sisters. The Administrator said there had been no ship from Telos since the _Ebon Hawk_ had last landed.

The Handmaiden stood in the bay, reciting the histories Mical had shared with her so as to keep still. For weeks her Master had sensed a change in the Force, a looming threat. Mical and Mira had felt it as well. More importantly to the Handmaiden's mind, the old woman had gone silent. She had ceased communications with the crew. She had not eaten, except that food which Darden brought to her personally and ordered her to eat.

A silence had fallen over the _Ebon Hawk_. Not a dead silence, like the one on Telos, nor a hostile silence, like that of Korriban. An expectant, wary silence. Darden called it 'the calm before the storm'. No one could imagine what form the storm would take. The Handmaiden had increased her training. She only hoped that it would be enough, that she was prepared.

Her Master had refused all company. She had gone across the plains without the Handmaiden, without the Iridonian or Mira or any of them, even Atton. Darden had gone alone, alone to the ruined Enclave. Alone except for the old woman who was no longer her teacher, and Kreia was not to be trusted. And Atris had not come.

The Handmaiden had abandoned Darden on Korriban. She had allowed her fear to master her, and to her dishonor, her friend and master had faced Sion without her. Darden had gone into the tomb of Ludo Kressh alone. She had been wounded. She had nearly been killed. The Handmaiden did not believe that she could have prevailed against the Dark Side barrier where Mical had not, but nevertheless she was ashamed.

The Handmaiden adjusted her grip on her lightsaber. No. She would not let Darden go into what awaited her alone, orders or no. She was apprentice and friend to Darden Leona, and she would not allow Darden to continue on in exile from all others. Not with what had happened last time. Not now, when the Force told all of them that something was coming.

The Handmaiden started over the plains.

* * *

DARDEN

As Darden Leona approached the place where the Jedi Enclave had once stood, the place of her childhood, she found that she didn't have to enter to know that the Jedi Masters had arrived. Weeks ago she had stood here, and all that had remained of the Enclave was a ruin and a door to a laigrek-infested sublevel. Now, to the left, where the entrance to the main level had been, there was another door. The walls had been built up around it. Darden felt the energy of the Force that had been used to begin to reconstruct the place. There was much left to do. The Enclave walls were carbon-scorched and green with the ivy that had grown over the stones as they lay demolished around the corpses of the Jedi here. There was no roof. But it was being rebuilt, nonetheless. The feel of the place was still one of incredible death and loss and sadness. But there was a cleanliness that had not been here last time.

"They have arrived," she said to Kreia.

Kreia was silent. Her face beneath her hood was pale. Darden almost thought she could see her shake. Kreia had insisted on accompanying Darden to the Enclave ruins. Darden had known better than to ask any of the others. This Enclave…this belonged to the Old Order, her past. It was desecrated now, destroyed, and that sorrow was one that she shared with the remnants of the Jedi, not her students. Besides, she had not told Zez-Kai Ell and Vrook of her students. If Kavar had informed them, if they were angry, she did not want to provoke them by inviting her not-quite-official Padawans to the ruins of a Secret Enclave.

She squared her shoulders. "Come on," she said. She went through the doors of the Enclave.

It was still beautiful. Darden hadn't been expecting that. The walls were broken. The place felt like death and despair. She could sense the Sith lasers that had fallen upon this building like rain. She could hear the echoes of the Jedi that had cried out and died and become one with the Force in bursts of anger, fear, and sadness. Yet the Enclave was still beautiful.

Wildflowers grew through the cracked and broken stone floor. Ivy hung on the tumbled-down walls. The sun was bright, and it bathed the scene with a serene golden light. The tree that had grown in the center of the Enclave had, somehow, been untouched. The leaves shone silvery green. A wind blew through the silent ruins, carrying its woody scent across and past Darden's face. She closed her eyes.

Kreia seemed transfixed. Her blind eyes gazed around the Enclave, and her breathing was shallow. She stumbled forward to the tree. Her single hand felt out for its trunk, and she sat on the broken rim of the massive marble enclosure that had once completely encircled the tree. "It's…it is different," she said, stumbling over words choked with emotion. "It has been some time. Forgive me, but I need to rest. Go on…the Council awaits. I will remain here."

All at once that sense of foreboding that had plagued Darden since Korriban swelled. She knelt before Kreia, looking up into the old woman's face. "Kreia…what? You…you're _afraid_."

It was somewhat of a novel realization. Kreia had always been there, a solid, irritating presence, utterly sure, utterly convinced she was correct. Yet now she seemed so uncertain. She was trembling.

But she managed a tight, dry-lipped smile. "Yes, afraid for you," she confessed, and her words had that familiar cynical bite to them, though Darden knew she was in deadly earnest. "As I always have been. Go. I will be fine here. Whatever answers the Council have are for you alone."

Darden took Kreia's hand in hers. "Kreia," she pressed. "What's going on? _I can help you_. We don't have to be—"

Kreia cut her off. "—I am tired," she said, pulling her hand away. Reluctantly, Darden stood. "The journey has been a long one, and I need to center myself."

"As you wish, then," Darden said slowly. She turned to leave. She knew where the Council would be. She turned to the left. Kreia's voice stopped her.

"Know that much may happen here, but above all, do not forget this: you may trust in me. We cradle each other's lives, and what threatens one of us, threatens us both."

A surge of anger flooded through Darden. Though the sentiment behind the words Kreia spoke was as genuine as her fear, the words themselves were a smokescreen. Kreia's usual vague reassurances of their bond, her insistence on the value of their one-sided relationship. She started to turn, started to retort, started to ask questions, but Kreia would allow no interruption.

"And if you find you cannot trust in me," she said, more quietly, more sadly, "Trust in your training. Trust in yourself. Never doubt what you have done. All your decisions have brought you to this point. And now, perhaps, they shall see what you have become." The last words were little more than a whisper.

Darden's stomach clenched. She almost felt sick, like what she was doing was wrong, but she stepped away anyway, since Kreia would have it no other way. The corridor before the Council Chamber was mostly intact, with a partial roof, even. But that only meant it was dark.

Darden passed through the corridor to the sunlit council chamber, where she had first met all the Masters of the Enclave as a Youngling just eight years old, where the great Guardian Kavar had told her at eleven that she was to be _his_ Padawan Learner, where she had returned after years traveling with him, learning from him, when the Mandalorian Wars had grown very serious. Where she and the others had confronted the entire Council when they had decided to defy the Orders and follow Revan, nearly sixteen years ago.

And there the Jedi Masters stood, sadly diminished. Their faces were lined, their robes were torn. They looked like…they looked like she did, war-torn, broken. Full of regret. Vrook. Zez-Kai Ell. And Kavar. Darden wondered where Atris was. She had had the Handmaiden send the message to her weeks back.

Kavar looked at her with his kind, humor-filled eyes, but they were full of that pity she had seen that day on Onderon. Darden's stomach clenched again.

"We were wondering when you would arrive," he said.

Darden forced humor into her voice, though all three Masters looked so serious she wanted to cry. "You're one to talk, Master. I went to Telos, came to Dantooine _and left_ before you got here, and we left Onderon at the exact same time." She tried to laugh. It didn't work. So she straightened and crossed the floor to stand in the center of the ruined rotunda. A Knight reporting to the Masters. "I looked for Vash. She's dead."

"That is a misfortune," Kavar said. "And Atris has not arrived. Nevertheless, we have talked together. We have determined that after all that has happened, we will answer your questions. I imagine you have many."

"Or perhaps you have come for revenge," Vrook said darkly.

* * *

HANDMAIDEN

The Handmaiden entered the Enclave, and found the old woman sitting alone. She was surprised. In her experience, the old woman almost never refused to accompany Darden. On the contrary, she usually pressed to journey alongside her. Korriban had been an exception.

"Did you not go to join her?" she asked Kreia.

"No," the old woman replied calmly. "It is a battle she must face alone."

"But Atris…she has not come." The Handmaiden tried to convey her sense of wrongness, her feeling that things would go badly. But the old woman merely smiled mysteriously beneath her hood.

"Of course she has not."

She motioned for the Handmaiden to sit. And, lacking a better plan, the Handmaiden did.

* * *

DARDEN

Darden stared at Master Vrook. It was strange. She had known this man since she was a child. He had taught her as a Youngling. She had always striven for his approval. Only now did she realize that he didn't know her at all. Zez-Kai Ell and Kavar looked embarrassed by his suggestion. They knew that if she'd wanted to take revenge, she would have done so already. Kavar knew that she probably blamed no one so much as herself. He looked pained now. An awkward silence fell over the ruined Council chamber.

Finally, Darden forced herself to speak. "Never that," she said, firmly. "But I do want to know what it was that you alluded to in that record of my trial, that all of you said you couldn't tell me unless you were all assembled. Why did you cast me out of the Order?"

Vrook's eyes had softened for a moment when Darden had said she didn't want revenge, that she never had. But now they hardened again. "We cast you out of the Order because you followed Revan to war," he said harshly. "There was no other reason."

Darden opened her mouth to object, but ever-honest Zez-Kai Ell was already correcting Vrook. "No, there was another. You had become different, somehow, changed. The war had changed you."

"You were no longer a Jedi," Kavar spoke up. His words cut like a lightsaber. Darden looked to him, incredulous. "But we could not tell you why," he continued. Every word seemed to cost him. "Some explanations mean nothing unless the one who suffers comes to the answer on their own. What had happened to you was punishment enough, and the Jedi do not kill their prisoners."

"And if you had stayed, you would have changed us," Zez-Kai Ell said. In his voice was the self-loathing, the condemnation he had spoken with on Nar Shaddaa. "And that we could not allow."

Darden looked around at the remnant of the Council, bewildered. "What?" she asked. "I was at your mercy. What could I have possibly done to change the Jedi?"

Vrook looked at Kavar, and his face hardened still further. His mouth became a thin line, and his voice was ringing and accusatory when he spoke. "You already know the answer. You have noticed it in those who travel with you."

Darden's mouth suddenly went dry. "What? What are you talking about?"

In the back of her mind, she suddenly felt six minds come alive, attuned to her distress.

"Have you noticed that when you act, others follow?" Zez-Kai Ell asked, gently. His gentleness was worse than Vrook's judgment.

Kavar's face displayed sorrow, compassion, pity, and despair. It was worse than both Vrook and Zez-Kai Ell combined. Whatever these Jedi had to tell her, it was bad. Very bad. Darden felt suddenly as if they hadn't come together to decide how to combat the Sith, but instead to judge her once again.

"Those that travel with you…" he began, and Darden knew that what he had told her on Onderon of his thoughts about her companions was a lie.

* * *

VISAS

She could see Darden's distress across Dantooine. The emotions coursing through Visas' friend now were nearly the same that she had displayed in the recording of her trial; the one Mical had shown Visas weeks ago. Except this time, Darden had expected a welcome from the Jedi Masters, the last remnant of the dying Order.

As ever, Darden's pain was Visas' pain. Visas did not know whether Darden knew how easily she transmitted her emotions, her convictions, how they inspired and drove others on. Visas felt Darden being rejected, and it was distracting her.

All of them had felt something moving in the background, an evil approaching, as though they were running out of time. Visas had thought it would be her Master, thought that perhaps He was gaining on them, had discovered the treasure she had found and was coming to steal it, break it, destroy it until Darden was empty and dead like Katarr was empty and dead. But the something moving now, the something gaining strength was not her Master. It was subtler.

"_There is something wrong here…a disturbance in the Force."_

She broadcast the thought, hoping Darden would hear her across the plains and take warning. But Darden did not. She was too occupied with what the last of the Jedi were saying to her in the dead Enclave. Mical caught her emotion. Atton caught the entirety of the thought. Both of their emotions spiked. They joined their will to hers in trying to reach across Dantooine to Darden.

But Visas could see that it would be no good, and the evil was growing. She stood, and started out of the _Ebon Hawk_, towards the dead Enclave.

* * *

HANDMAIDEN

The Miraluka was coming. The Handmaiden sensed she had something of importance to say. She stood to go meet Visas, to see if her news was urgent enough to warrant interrupting Darden and the Council. She hoped it was.

"Do not let them hurt her," she ordered Kreia.

The old woman was silent.

* * *

DARDEN

"They follow you without question, without hesitation," Zez-Kai Ell said.

"Against their instincts, and sometimes against their sense," Vrook added ruthlessly.

Canderous was always telling her how he wasn't her friend, wasn't bound to her. Yet he followed her orders every time. Mira had left everything on Nar Shaddaa, a job she loved, without explanation. Bao-Dur had left an important work as well to be her soldier again. Visas had abandoned a very dangerous Sith Lord to follow Darden instead. The Handmaiden had broken her oath to the mistress she loved, despite every deep-seated reason she had to never betray anyone. Mical had waited for her, all these years. And Atton…he'd hated everything she did at first, yet he'd risked everything for her time and again, changed, even, to be what she wanted him to be. A nasty taste rose in Darden's mouth.

"It is because you are a leader," Kavar said, attempting to comfort her. But he could not continue to do so. He was not here to comfort her, but to answer a question, to pass judgment. "But that still fails to grasp the meaning of what I am trying to tell you."

Darden spoke from her dry, sour mouth. "I didn't ask for this," she defended. "I'm nobody's General. Not anymore."

"Perhaps not," Vrook conceded. "But it is not that to which we are referring. You are familiar with Force Bonds. These are the Bonds that develop between apprentice and Master, when one truly understands another. They are developed over time, through understanding of others. Yet you form them so easily, and we do not know why."

"I don't know, either—"Darden started heatedly, but Kavar spoke over her.

"You make connections through the Force, and it resonates with those who travel with you. The resonance is even greater when they, too, are Force Sensitive."

"Your actions affect others more than you know," Zez-Kai Ell said quietly. "You draw others to you, especially those strong in the Force."

"When you suffer, their spirit echoes it," said Kavar, "And when they are in pain, their pain becomes yours."

Darden felt her friends with her in her head, and she knew they spoke the truth. "So I draw others to me through the Force," she said. "Can't we use that to strengthen the Jedi? Why do I get the sense that you see this as a really bad thing?"

Kavar's eyes showed the struggle he was going through. Darden knew he wanted to sit her down, make her a cup of caffa, and talk about this the way he had talked about her weaknesses with her when she was a girl of twelve, gently and wisely with a focus on the positives, on the way the Force could guide her through. But he couldn't, because she wasn't his Padawan anymore, she was the Exile, and whatever they were leading up to, it was why she'd been exiled. He wasn't _her_ Master, he was _a_ Master, passing judgment, even if it broke both of their hearts.

"This bond," he said, "It travels both ways. When you feel pain, or strong emotion, it resonates within you."

"And that is why the Mandalorian Wars echo within you still," Zez-Kai Ell said.

Darden's brain kicked into high gear. She'd suspected when she'd first seen the record of her trial that Kreia had lied about the Jedi Council cutting her off from the Force. She'd known for certain after she'd spoken to Zez-Kai Ell on Nar Shaddaa.

_"She is not a person anymore; she is not anything anymore! We have won, and she is just another casualty. Yet you will let her cost us still more?" _

_ "You couldn't fight if you wanted to, Leona. Not now. You stand here now, you speak, but you're dead. You died at Malachor."_

_ "I certainly won't waste my time trying to wreak revenge on the shell of the woman that was once my friend and ally. Go."_

_ "I can't say May the Force be With You, because it's not…"_

_ "The Dark Side is not what I sensed in Darden Leona. Surely the rest of you felt it, as well. That emptiness we felt—she has changed."_

_ "You were a Jedi no longer, and so you were exiled."_

_"You were a Jedi no longer…"_

Over and over Darden had heard the words. It had never occurred to her that they were not a sentence, but rather, a definition. Nearly eleven years ago, she had gone to the Council on Coruscant already severed from the Force. Nearly eleven years ago, she had left Revan already severed from the Force. There had been no Jedi that had severed her from the Force as Nomi Sunrider had done to Ulic Qel-Droma. No. What had happened to her was different, and Jedi and Sith alike didn't understand it, and were repulsed by it. Only now was Darden beginning to get an inkling as to what had happened.

"My ability with Bonding…" Darden breathed. "Revan said once—I _die_ every time they do. That's why they follow me. But it wasn't just a figure of speech, was it?" She felt faint, sick.

"We did not cut you off from the Force," Vrook confirmed mercilessly. "You were merely deafened to it, because of that last battle of the Mandalorian Wars."

Malachor V.

Darden didn't need Zez-Kai Ell's words to picture it.

"The screams of countless thousands, Jedi and Mandalorians, crushed by the planet's gravity, annihilated."

She saw it every day, every night, every minute.

"Their lives still scream across the surface of that dead planet, and within you," Kavar said grimly. "To hear the Force over such pain is not possible. It was too much for any Jedi to endure, and it is a wonder that you did not die there when thousands perished, all those you had fought with and struggled with. You cut yourself off, because you had to if you were to survive. You had hints of it in the war on Dxun. Malachor was simply the final blow."

His words were a blow, and Darden staggered beneath it. In her despair, though, a door opened in her mind. Kreia was there for the first time in weeks, and in her mind, there was no condemnation, no horror. Instead, Darden was numb as Kreia's pride and exultation washed over her in waves.

"You were deafened," Vrook said.

_"At last, you could hear."_

"You were broken." Kavar.

_"You were whole." _

"You were blinded," finished Zez-Kai Ell.

_"And, at last, you saw."_

"When you returned to us, we saw what had happened," Vrook went on. "You carry all those deaths at Malachor within you, and it has left a hole, a hunger that cannot be filled."

"In you we saw a wound in the Force," Kavar said.

"In you we saw the end of the Force," Zez-Kai Ell added.

Darden blinked, and found that tears were running down her face. Funny. She hadn't realized she was crying. She just felt numb. This was wrong, though! It was wrong! The Force was still present. She felt it all around. She was better, she'd returned from Exile. So why were they all looking at her with the same revulsion they'd looked at her with that day eleven years ago, only changed insofar as they lacked the confusion they had displayed that day?

"I…I sense you are correct about how I lost my connection to the Force, why it happened," she stammered. "But it's over. I came back to the Force. I can feel it again now. I'm not a…I'm not a _wound_."

Vrook's eyes flashed. "Yes, you can feel the Force," he retorted, "But you cannot feel yourself. You are a cipher, forming bonds, leeching the life of others, siphoning their will and dominating them. It is the teaching of these new Sith, to feed on others, on other Force Sensitives. They are symptomatic of the wound in the Force. You are a breach which must be closed. You transmit your pain, your suffering through the Force. Within you we see something worse than merely the teachings of the Sith. What you carry may mean the death of the Force…and the death of the Jedi."

All at once Darden saw where this was going. Because these new Sith _did _track Jedi by their Force Sensitivity. Their mode of attack _had_ to seem similar to the way she bonded to others. She opened her mouth once, twice, unsure how to explain what she herself didn't fully understand. "It's not me, Vrook," she said lamely at last. "It isn't! If I transmit my pain through the Force, it only means I feel it, not that I'm…a wound, a hole, some weird Force vacuum. I do know myself, no one better. And my friends aren't weaker for my influence. If anything, I—"She fell silent.

_"It is the teaching of these new Sith, to feed on others, on other Force Sensitives…What you carry may mean the death of the Force…and the death of the Jedi."_

It wasn't true. Not in the slightest. But Vrook wasn't the only one who believed it. Kreia's exultation rang out in her head. Darden had wondered again and again why Kreia had come for her, what she sought. Over and over she had heard Kreia speak of the will of the Force as though she hated it. Time and again Kreia had urged her to rely on herself, separate from the Force, for all she taught the techniques. It was all at once as plain as plain that Kreia hated the Force, that she sought to destroy it, using Darden.

But the Council was not finished.

"It is not the strength of a Jedi you feel," Vrook sneered.

Revulsion, condemnation, anger, even hatred twisted his face. Zez-Kai Ell saw it, and was ashamed. But he did not contradict Vrook.

"He's right," he said, apologetically. "It's…it's all the death you've caused to get here. You feed on it, and you grow stronger. You're like Malachor. It's in you. It's what you are now. You must have noticed as you've fought your way across all these planets, killing hundreds, only to become more and more powerful. Why did you think that was?"

Darden opened her mouth to answer, but Kavar didn't let her defend herself. "But what's worse is that the bonding you have hasn't gone away. It's gotten stronger, and the more attachments you form, the more you draw others to you."

"And that is why you are a threat to us all."

Vrook's words concluded the explanation part of the Council meeting, Darden knew, and opened the judgment part. She had thought that they were all meeting here to determine what to do with the Sith. It seemed that such a determination was too difficult. It was far easier to blame her yet again for the Jedi Civil War and the fallout, when she hadn't done anything. And now these three men that once had been Jedi were going to rip her apart, instead of the Sith, because she was here and the Sith were not.

* * *

MICAL

For the last ninety standard minutes, Mical's head had been clearer than it had been since the day he boarded the _Ebon Hawk_. Now he could remember. Now he could see.

The old woman—Kreia—she had been hiding from him since the beginning. Over and over again, she had hidden in the back of his mind, keeping him from seeing what she was and what she planned. Now he could remember.

These worlds that Darden Leona had gone to: Telos, Dxun, Onderon, Dantooine, Korriban. They were dead worlds. One could hear echoes of screams of lost souls and bygone battles more clearly than the insistent cry of life. Even Nar Shaddaa, bristling with life, had been described by Visas as almost entirely dead to the Force. The hollow worlds formed a machine, a crucible, calculated to deaden, to break a being of the Force. And that was what Kreia was trying to do. She was trying to destroy the Force.

Kreia had said so, once. He had realized this, gone to confront her. And she had made him forget. But now he could remember. And that meant that it was time. Kreia was ready to put her plan into action, and whether he knew or not no longer mattered, because it was too late.

Except her plan had not worked. Darden was not deaf to the Force. Kreia's crucible had failed. Or…or it was incomplete, and Kreia still had moves to make.

A disturbance in the Force. Not here…elsewhere. A massive, threatening malice, intent upon destruction. And Mical knew where Kreia would have aimed it. All that Darden had done since the moment she had returned from Exile had been intended to preserve Telos, to stabilize the Republic. Kreia would have set things up now to destroy that effort.

Mical went to the communications console and sent a transmission to Admiral Onasi of the Republic Fleet.

* * *

DARDEN

"What if other Jedi went to war as you did, suffered the same events, and emerged as you did?" Vrook demanded of her. "What if there was a crucible that trained such Jedi to consume and kill?"

"For you, Malachor was that crucible," said Zez-Kai Ell heavily.

Kavar was aging every minute, but still he held strong, determined against her. Tears continued to fall down Darden's face, but she made no outcry. One did not interrupt the Masters. Even if they were Masters no more. "What's worse is that these Sith we face have learned the lesson of Malachor all too well," Kavar said. "It is what allows them to prey on Force users, to become stronger when Force Sensitives are near."

"Somehow they learned their hunger from you. And so you have brought about the end of the Jedi, and perhaps all the knowledge of the Force." Vrook finished. His face was grim. "But it is of no consequence. Your ability to form such connections, such bonds so easily is why you cannot remain."

* * *

VISAS

The Handmaiden had found that she could not sit idly by in the courtyard while Darden suffered within the ruins of the dead Enclave. But neither would she interrupt the Jedi Masters. Visas had met her coming into the Enclave, going to clear her head upon the plains, away from the echoes of death and despair that hung about this place.

Visas entered and found that perhaps it was not the Enclave that had thrown the Echani girl into such confusion. Kreia was not within with her student, the one being the old woman cared about in all the galaxy. No, Kreia waited here, and she was the source of the disturbance.

Visas activated her lightsaber.

Long had Darden suspected Kreia's motivations, her allegiance. Visas had hesitated to pass judgment. She of all people had reason to exercise mercy in her views of others. But it seemed that Darden had been correct. Kreia followed the way of the Sith, and like a Sith, she was here to sacrifice her dearest to gain her ends, whatever they were.

"And so you wait, as a shadow," Visas spoke.

Kreia did not rise. "Yes; we are alike in that way, blinded one," she said without so much as turning her head.

"I would have thought you would walk with her amongst the Jedi. But that is not the way of the Sith, is it?" Visas asked.

Now Kreia stood. She extended her single hand, and before Visas could react, a bolt of Force Lightning struck her straight in the chest. She tried to cry out. It was not the pain. She had felt worse. But she wanted Darden to hear, wanted to warn her somehow. But Kreia had locked her vocal cords.

"Do not speak to me of the ways of the Sith," she hissed, angry. "You of all of us have no conception of what it means to be Sith." She sent another bolt of Lightning to Visas' chest. Visas' mind was fogged from the pain. Her knees shook. As she began to fall, she felt a call from across the galaxy, and she feared it more than Kreia's Lightning. Her Master had emerged. He called for her. Visas collapsed to the floor in the dead Enclave.

* * *

DARDEN

"You are a threat to all living creatures, and all who feel the Force," Vrook said. His face was hard, filled with anger at her for all the loss, all the deaths that had taken place since the start of the Mandalorian Wars. She was not Darden Leona in the eyes of Vrook Lamar. She was a symbol of everything he'd fought against and failed against, only he had the power to defeat her.

"You will lead the Sith here, and that we cannot allow," said Zez-Kai Ell. He did not hate her. Darden could see that. He hated himself. And deep within him, Zez-Kai Ell felt that what the non-Council here had resolved upon was wrong. But fear ruled Zez-Kai Ell. It had ruled him for a long time. He would never be a Jedi again after what he would do here. He might never be a man again. But nevertheless, his strong conscience was still not strong enough.

"Our judgment before you remains, Exile," Vrook said in a ringing voice. "You must leave, and you must leave without your tie to the Force. It is a punishment reserved for only a few, and only when necessary, but we have the power to cut you off from the Force, and it must be done."

Kavar would not look at her. "Forgive us," he said, very quietly. "But it is necessary."

He knew this was wrong, too. He knew it was a betrayal of everything they had meant to one another, knew that she had forgiven the Exile, but that she could never forgive this, even as he asked her to do so. If they ever met again he could not claim to be her Master, could not claim to be her friend, as he had done on Onderon. Yet Kavar could not see past the correlations between Darden and the Sith to see the differences. He was blinded. They all were.

Darden spoke slowly, through her tears. "You would make this judgment? Do you truly believe that I am what you say? Or do you just not understand what you see? War and Sith have killed nearly all the Jedi. I understand that you are afraid. But is it truly I, and I alone, that must be blamed, and punished? Or am I all you have?"

Vrook's eyes flashed. Zez-Kai Ell looked troubled. Kavar flushed. None of them answered her, though. They knew she deserved at least this chance to speak.

"Despite what you all believe of me, I am not what I did at Malachor, or even what I still feel because of it," Darden insisted, more firmly now. "I am a General no longer. I am done with war and have been for years, and everything I have done this year I have done in the interest of self-defense, and for the protection of the Jedi. Because I am done with war, I do not fight you now. Because I wish to protect the Jedi, I will submit to your judgment. I know that I can survive."

Slowly, purposefully, Darden knelt before the three men that used to be the Council, that she used to respect and revere. "I will not ask if you know what you impose upon me," she said, very quietly. 'I know you do, because it is what above all things you fear will befall you. I submit, but I tell you that you are no Masters, and that you are Jedi no more than I. _And you are wrong_."

For a moment she thought Kavar would stop them. But Vrook extended his hand, and Darden went numb. Kavar squared his shoulders then. The three men stepped closer together.

"Do not be afraid," Vrook said. "You shall feel no pain, but this must be done. As long as you feel the Force, you are a danger to those around you."

Darden closed her eyes, preparing to die yet again before dying. She felt out for the Force all around her, feeling Life for one more glorious moment. It seemed that the stars sang a lament for her.

"Enough!" came a loud, ringing voice from the doorway. "Step away from her."

* * *

**A/N: Too much goes on in this chapter. I hope I did it justice. I rather think it all just came out awkwardly, though.**

**Coming Soon: Darden Leona had thought that Kreia would not move until she had taken out the rival Sith. She is taken completely by surprise when Kreia moves to destroy the Jedi first. Saved from the Jedi, Darden truly is the last of the Old Jedi Order. But the Sith are gathering. Visas' Master, Nihilus, moves to take Telos, just as the HK-50 units start their war upon the galaxy in earnest. And meanwhile the Handmaiden, mistakenly informed by Kreia of Darden's death, has seized Kreia and returned to Atris. The young Echani girl may find she is more prisoner than warden, though, and that Atris is not the safe refuge she had thought. Darden Leona must make some hard decisions, and quickly, or the Republic and her friend might both fall. **

**Read and Review!**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	34. The Games Begin

**Disclaimer: Don't sue me. I make no claim to the ownership of this story.**

* * *

XXXIII.

The Games Begin

Darden couldn't see Kreia, but she knew it was Kreia. She tried to move, but the Masters still held her immobilized and numb. Their eyes were turned upon Kreia now, though, with dismay.

"Step away!" Kreia repeated. "She has brought truth, and you condemn it? The arrogance! You will not harm her. You will not harm her ever again."

Darden tried to open her mouth, though she wasn't sure if she'd thank Kreia or rebuke her should she suddenly regain the power of speech. Heartbreaking relief warred with sadness, and then a new apprehension crept in. Not for herself, but for the men who were about to strip her of the Force. It had not occurred to her that Kreia would act before the Sith were defeated. But here the Jedi were, or at least the ones who called themselves Jedi, save Atris. And if Kreia were Sith, and if she, like the others, wanted to destroy the Jedi…

Vrook's face was hard. Kavar's jaw was tight. Even Zez-Kai Ell looked grim. Whatever Kreia had done with the Force to keep them from knowing her, she had ceased to do so. They knew her. And what they saw was bad.

"I thought you had died in the Mandalorian Wars," Kavar said. He activated his lightsaber, but didn't attack.

"Die—no! Became stronger, yes!" Kreia's voice was harsh and mocking.

"Is this your new Master, Exile?" Vrook demanded. "If so, then you follow Revan's path. Her teachings will cause you to fall as surely as she did." He, too, activated his saber.

Darden wanted to wanted to cry out that didn't he think that she was fallen already? Wasn't that why he, at least, had been about to inflict the ultimate punishment upon her? She wanted to answer him, but she couldn't. And he didn't really expect her to. None of the Masters released her. Kreia was apparently a threat, and they thought that releasing her would merely double it.

"She is difficult to see," Zez-Kai Ell said quickly. "She is like a shadow of the Exile. We sought to lure the Sith out, and now they have come to us." He activated his lightsaber. But they were Jedi. They did not attack. They waited for Kreia to make her move.

"How could you ever have hoped to know the threat you faced when you have never walked in the Dark places of the galaxy, faced war and death on such a scale?" Darden heard her former teacher pacing, catlike, behind her. "If you had traveled far enough, rather than waiting for the echo to reach you, perhaps you would have seen in for what it was. Did you not hear its call on Dantooine, Vrook, on its scarred surface and in the minds of the settlers? I have endured the corruption of my other students. You shall not have this one."

Vrook's face went rigid, and Darden felt a wave of fear from him. His eyes were suddenly glassy, and the grip on Darden loosened. She was able to blink, and she felt the afternoon sun on her skin again. Darden realized that Kreia held Vrook captive, now. She tried to wrench her teeth apart, but still she could not move. Behind her, Kreia moved again.

"And you, Kavar, so close to the call of Dxun, tell me. Did you not feel what poured from the moon, what had taken place there?"

Kavar tried to raise his arm, and his lightsabers fell to the ground, still humming, as he, too, was immobilized. Darden was released all at once as Zez-Kai Ell tried to rush Kreia, but in a moment, he stood stationary beside his fellows, horrified eyes frozen looking at Kreia.

Darden turned, halfway. "Kreia, don't—"

Then, Kreia immobilized her, too.

"Zez-Kai Ell," she said softly. "To hide on Nar Shaddaa, yet blind yourself to all that happens there. So close to understanding the Force…so close to giving it up."

She walked forward, and now, Darden could see her. Now, half-turned between the Masters and Kreia, she could see it all. The old woman that had been her teacher had drawn back her hood for perhaps the second time since Darden had met her, and for the very first time, Darden saw Kreia's face in the light of day. It was a terrible face. Not ugly, but horribly proud, filled with hate and loss. The blind eyes under the elaborately arranged silvered hair glittered with something that was either vision or madness. Kreia looked to Darden for a moment.

"So close to giving it up..." she repeated in a murmur. She raised the back of her single withered hand to stroke the side of Darden's paralyzed face. Darden wanted to shudder. A cold certainty fell into her stomach where before there had been only misgiving. Kreia was a Sith, the third Dark Lord, and her hour was come. Darden had miscalculated.

Kreia walked past her, addressing the Council once more. "There is a place in the galaxy where the Dark Side of the Force runs strong," she said slowly. "It is something of the Sith, but it was fueled by war. It corrupts all that walk upon its surface, drowns them in the power of the Dark Side. It corrupts all life, and it feeds on death. Revan knew the power of such places, and the power in making them. They can be used to break the will of others, of Jedi, promising them power, and turning them to the Dark Side."

Her voice dropped. "Did you never wonder how Revan corrupted so many of the Jedi, so much of the Republic, so quickly?" she asked. "The Mandalorian Wars were a series of massacres that masked another war, a war of conversion. Culminating into a final atrocity that no Jedi could walk away from, save one."

She turned back to Darden, and Darden knew that Kreia was mad. She had no idea what Kreia would move to do, because Revan hadn't thought that. It hadn't worked that way. That wasn't what Revan's plan had been in the Wars, to bring about the fall of all the Jedi. _"You who loved her so well, do you know her so little? What are you, that you see everything in such a dark and bitter light? Stop! It doesn't have to be like this. If the Wars were a machine, like they think…like Mical thinks—so that's why you've been hiding from him—it wasn't one operated by Revan. She fell prey to it like all the—"_

"But I see what happened now," Kreia said softly, scornfully. She came very close to Darden, and in her ear she whispered venomously, "It is because you were afraid."

_"Afraid of power? Unwilling to wield the Dark Side, to be the person I was at Malachor? Yes. I did what I did because it was necessary, to save others, but I destroyed so many. Yet I refused to stay a destroyer, and I refused to be destroyed. To stop there is not cowardice. Kreia! I know you can hear me! Stop this! You can stop this!"_

Kreia's blind eyes looked down into hers. Her thin lips, lips the color of dried blood, curled. Still, there was an instant where Darden thought that she might listen, that she might release them. Then the instant passed. Kreia turned to the frozen Council. In a loud voice she declared, "As you would pass judgment on her, I have come to pass judgment on you all. Do you wish to feel the teachings born of the Mandalorian Wars? Of all wars, of all tragedies that scream across the galaxy? Let me show you—you who have forever seen the galaxy through the Force. See it through the eyes of the Exile."

The nothingness, the hungry scream of death and destruction emanated from Kreia like a wave, and in its presence nothing could survive. Darden reacted instinctively. The bonds on her broke like strings and she fell to the stones. Death washed over her like at Malachor, like the Jedi that had died here when Darden had been wandering the edge of the galaxy. But she couldn't feel it. She couldn't feel anything. The silence echoed in her ears until it deafened. The lack of feeling set her senses shrieking. Darden blacked out, and as she did, what hurt the most wasn't that the Council had been right, that she had cut herself off from the Force, that she could do that, that the Sith had learned from her. Because it wasn't wrong, what she had done, and whatever they said, she wasn't a _wound,_ she wasn't beaming Malachor all across the galaxy with her bonding ability. No. She was right. But she was wrong, too. She'd miscalculated. She'd brought a madwoman and a Sith to the last of the Jedi, and now they were all going to die…probably the others, too…

* * *

When Darden opened her eyes, she knew immediately from the position of the sun in the Dantooine sky over the ruined Enclave that it had been at least two hours. She blinked, breathed in, reached out, and just like that, she could feel the Force again. Interesting that it was a door she could open and shut like that now, but Darden knew that in the overall scheme of things that had happened today that discovery was fairly unimportant. Kreia would be gone by now. She'd be in hyperspace.

Darden lay on the ground, cursing herself. Of course Kreia had acted to remove the Jedi before Darden had removed the Sith. She'd had the opportunity. Darden had practically served it to her on a silver platter. In her stupidity she had found Kreia's enemies for her. Then she had brought a Sith to the last of the Jedi. Vrook had blamed her for the end of the Jedi. He hadn't been right in the way that he'd meant, but the end of the Jedi was on Darden's head, nonetheless.

Darden stood. She knew before she looked that Vrook Lamar, Zez-Kai Ell, and Kavar were dead. She could feel the empty hole in the Force where their corpses lay. Sure enough, as Darden crossed the stones, she saw their glazed eyes staring up at the sky, their faces frozen in expressions of fear and anger. They had not become one with the Force. Kreia had not permitted them that. They were nothing. With the door open in her mind, Darden could feel it. And she'd be damned for sure and certain, but she was glad she could feel it.

Darden staggered over three steps to the right, braced herself on her knees, and emptied her stomach on the broken stones.

When she was done she washed her mouth out with water from her canteen and spat.

Darden's eyes were dry. She had no energy to weep, and she had no time. But before she left…

Vrook, typical Jedi, had been living in the Enclave, puttering around the shards of tradition rather than helping to build Dantooine anew and joining with the community. It took Darden less than thirty seconds to find the extensive pile of firewood in the ruined halls behind the Council Chamber. There was a speeder, too. And some fuel.

It took a very long time for Darden to build a pyre large enough in the center of the Council Chamber, and almost as long to shift the corpses of the three men to place them on top of the pyre. By the time Darden had doused the entire thing with the speeder fuel, the stars were coming out, and her back and limbs were aching.

She pulled her matches out of her pack, struck one, and flipped it onto the pyre without ceremony. Just another cremation. Just three more deaths on her conscience. And still she stood here, alive, if the way she existed could be called life. The pyre went up in the gathering dusk, just like it always did. The thoroughly unromantic smell of burning fuel and burning flesh rose up into the night. Darden's eyes remained dry.

They had not been Jedi at the end. They had not been her friends. They had been three afraid, confused, middle-aged men. They had died in Darkness. But once upon a time she had loved all of them. Once upon a time they had all been Jedi. And this much they had earned.

Darden drew herself up and saluted. Then, quoting Revan, "'I won't say, 'May the Force Be With You', because it's not, but—if you can, if there's some way—be at peace.'"

She didn't stay. She turned around, and left them burning. There was work to do.

* * *

Visas was only just climbing to her feet when Darden exited the Enclave. Her knees shook, and her face was drawn. There were scorch marks on her robe. Nevertheless, she almost ran to Darden.

"I lay here…I could not move to stop them. She…she told the Handmaiden that she had destroyed you."

"She lied," Darden said flatly, accepting this new turn of events with equanimity. At least Visas was not dead, and if Kreia had gone with the Handmaiden, the others were probably safe, too. "She does that a lot. They're gone?"

"The Handmaiden took her to Khoonda," Visas confirmed.

"She hurt you."

"It is nothing," Visas said. "I have failed you. I could not stop her."

"Neither could I, and I knew what she was," Darden told her, taking Visas' hands and pushing some Force energy through her. "Try to forget it. We will go after them. We'll find them. We'll save the Handmaiden. She's the one in danger now."

"What of the Jedi?" Visas asked. Just then the wind shifted, blowing the smoke towards them from the funeral pyre. Visas' nostrils flared. She pressed her lips together and put a hand on Darden's shoulder.

"I didn't think she would act so soon," Darden confessed.

There was a wave of fear from Visas. "Forgive me, Darden. That is not all. I had hoped…my Master and his armies make for Telos. He calls me. He will…"

She trailed off, and her hand on Darden's shoulder trembled. Darden felt millions of years old and as heavy as a planet. It seemed to her that she'd known all along that it would play out like this, that when Kreia made her move all hell would break loose. So Darden took Visas' hand, and gently extricated herself from the Miraluka's grip.

"Come on," she said. She made for Khoonda.

The farmers, militia-men, and salvagers that buzzed about Khoonda in the day were gone. Only a bored-looking night watchman stood by the entrance. When he saw Darden, though, he snapped his heels together and stood to attention. "Ma'am! Word was the _Ebon Hawk_ had docked again. We'd thought that you'd gone to the Enclave, though. The Captain and the Administrator weren't expecting the pleasure until tomorrow."

"It's no pleasure, soldier," Darden answered him. "And there won't be a tomorrow. The _Ebon Hawk_ needs to leave tonight. Rouse Khoonda. The Jedi are dead, and the Sith move on Citadel Station."

The man's eyes widened. For a moment he was going to ask questions. Then he remembered he was a foot soldier, a militia-man, not even professional, and instead, he hit a button on the entry pad next to the door. All the lights of Khoonda went on, and an alarm blared out over the still plains, reverberating against the low rocky cliff walls that ran here and there along the river. The door to Khoonda opened, and Darden and Visas entered to begin planning yet another battle.

It took less than fifteen minutes to explain the situation adequately to Terena Adare.

She bowed her head. "Vrook was a good friend. The news of his death saddens me. Treachery was always the way of the Sith. But you say the old woman was the culprit? It was the Echani girl that brought the two-man fighter off the salvagers."

Darden took in a breath. "Describe what happened," she said.

"The girl was very upset when she requested fuel and leave to depart," Adare related. "She handled the old woman very roughly. We did not question her, of course. We had seen her with you in the battle; Zherron praised her bravery in particular. None of us had seen the old woman before, however."

Darden swore. "Kreia told the Handmaiden she had murdered me, and now the two of them are long gone."

"I do apologize," the Administrator said sincerely. "We should have questioned the girl more closely, sent someone to investigate the Enclave."

"No," Darden said, waving a hand impatiently. She reached out across space to the Handmaiden's mind. She could feel the girl's presence, but she couldn't get through the overwhelming rage, hatred, and grief the Handmaiden was feeling to speak to her consciousness. "I know where she's going," she told the Administrator. She knew how and why Kreia was manipulating the girl. Atris hadn't shown up to the Council for a reason. There would be two powerful enemies waiting for her on Telos, Kreia discounted, even.

"She'll go to Telos, where the other Sith goes," Darden told Terena Adare, meeting her gaze. "I must follow immediately. Citadel Station is not prepared for the onslaught the Sith will bring to it, and if Citadel Station falls, so does the Republic. Can you get a message to the Fleet…?"

But the Administrator had already nodded to Zherron, and he was already moving towards the door. "Better than that, General," the Administrator said. "I will send part of our militia with you to Telos. If Telos falls, if the Republic falls, so does Dantooine. Berun!"

The Administrator gave orders for the _Ebon Hawk_ to be provisioned and fueled, for the Republic supply ship they had on hand to be similarly provided for. And immediately. No one argued. No one complained. The alarm had spread. The rumors had spread. Everyone knew the galaxy was at stake once again. Darden and Visas, for their part, headed back to the _Ebon Hawk._

* * *

The crew of the _Ebon Hawk_ was already assembled in the main hold. As Darden entered, Canderous and the droids exited to help the militia men with the supply and fueling of the ship.

"You felt it," Darden said without preamble. Their grave faces were all the answer she needed. "The Handmaiden's left with Kreia. They're going to Telos. Everyone is going to Telos. So that's where we're going, too."

"That's what I was afraid you'd say," Atton said. "What about you, Darden? We still don't know if the old witch was lying when she said your life was bound to hers—"

"She lied about everything else," Darden retorted.

"Not so," Mical said. "Kreia manipulates. She twists the truth. She hides. She is too proud to lie outright." He looked down. "She told me who and what she was. I realized it weeks ago. She made me forget, but she did not lie. We all know the bond you have with Kreia. We were witness to it. Whatever she has done, whatever your feelings towards her, your lives are entwined."

"And she's drawing you into a deathtrap," Atton agreed, face grim. "Telos—it's gonna be hotter than any place we've been yet, and we've been in some rough places. You're gonna have an army of Sith soldiers gunning for you, not to mention two Sith Lords. See, I don't think Kreia cares if she dies so long as she takes you down."

"It doesn't matter," Darden snapped, interrupting him again. "Don't you get it? It doesn't matter. The Handmaiden, our friend, my student—she's in danger. More than she knows. But it's not just Kreia, and it's not just the Handmaiden. All Telos could fall. The entire _Republic_ could fall. The Jedi sacrificed everything to save it. We can't just let that be for nothing. I mean…" she stopped, took in a breath. _A clear head is the battle half won, _Revan had used to say. Darden had used to be the epitome of a clear head. But she'd been slipping lately. And the battle might already be half lost. She couldn't let emotion cloud her judgment now.

"If we don't stop her, then everyone, everywhere, they're going to lose their lives," Mira said quietly. Darden looked at the younger woman. Once upon a time, Mira would have argued Atton's side of things. But not anymore. Mira had mastered her fear, Darden realized. She stood before Darden now, strong and compassionate.

"If we could save something in this galaxy, just this once…we have to do this," Bao-Dur agreed.

"We're going to do this?" Atton said. "Walk into a deathtrap, knowing it's a deathtrap?"

"We cannot afford to let fear rule us, Atton," Mical said. "Not with so much at stake."

Atton opened his mouth to retort, looked at Darden. Then he swore under his breath, took a breath, and nodded. "Fine," he said. "What have _we_ got to lose, anyway? I'll go prep the engines."

Darden forced a smile. "Thank you." There were footsteps on the ramp. Darden left to go help Canderous with the supplies.

* * *

Mical found her in the med bay hours later. They'd been in hyperspace for about thirty minutes. It was perhaps 200 hours, according to the Dantooine time they had left. Mira was asleep in the starboard dormitory, secure in their course of action, and if Visas did not sleep, she was quiet. But Darden lay on the medical cot, staring at the ceiling. Every muscle ached, and her eyes burned from weariness and a lack of tears.

"I can feel your distress," he said. "What troubles you?"

Darden grimaced, and turned to face the wall. "Of course you can feel my distress."

"That is an odd answer," Mical said, making his way over to the chair opposite the cot. "What do you mean by it?"

Darden sat up quickly and glared at him. "Why the hell are you here, Mical?" she demanded. "Childhood nostalgia? You had a job you loved. You liked your boss. You were doing well. You gave it all up for me."

Mical's brow furrowed. His blue eyes were clearer than they had been in weeks, and his voice was just as clear when he answered. "I follow you because it is my choice," he said mildly. "I believe in what we are doing—what you are doing. I am here because I choose to be."

Darden scoffed. "How do you know that? The Jedi Council, they thought that I'm controlling you all through my Force Bonding, somehow."

Mical held her gaze. "I know that it is my choice to follow you," he repeated. "There is nothing I can show you as proof, except give you my word. Something happened within the Enclave. What was it?"

"They tried to strip me of the Force, before Kreia killed them by doing the same," Darden told him, looking away again. "They said I'm a gaping wound in the Force, that Malachor is what I am now. They said…they said I might cause the death of the Force."

"Then they do not understand you," Mical said warmly, taking her hand. "That is the danger of being a Jedi. When one separates themselves from othes, chooses to lead a life of isolation, denying what makes them a feeling being, it is easy to make such judgments. And such judgments, I believe, are made in ignorance. There is no danger in what you represent, other than your humanity."

"You're different, all of you," Darden pressed. "You couldn't know; you've only been here a few weeks. But even you—you weren't _this _when we met. But all of you are flying into a deathtrap with me now, and for what? I've bonded with all of you—"

"You change others," Mical interrupted, "But I do not believe that it is due to the Force. I believe it is because you are a natural leader, and because you feel connected to the people around you. Where they look at you and see the death of the Force, I look at you and see hope for all life. And that perhaps a life lived without the Force is not the punishment it is believed to be."

"Have I lived life? Is that what I've done? Mical, you didn't see them there today. What if—what if Kreia did that to you? I don't know if I could stand it. All this is centered around me, anyway. Maybe when we get to Telos…" she shrugged, helpless.

"I will understand if I feel you must go alone," Mical said, squeezing her hand, then releasing it. He stood and headed for the door. "But I ask that you do not. Instead, take strength from your connections to others. Do not forsake them, as you did in exile. There are others who need to know you. Telos needs you. The planet and all its people are in danger. If we do not stop the Sith now, then the Republic will fall."

"Never mind that it's probably my fault the Sith are such a threat now, anyway," Darden muttered.

Mical frowned. "Pardon? I didn't hear."

Darden looked at him. Mical's light blue eyes were still full of such faith in her, such affection. It cut like a lightsaber. She waved him away. He went.

Visas emerged from the hallway next, like a shadow. She was pale. Her voice shook when she spoke. "He awaits you at Telos," she said. "And when you go there, you must face him. And when you do, he will wound you as he has wounded me."

Darden sighed. She stood and went to the Miraluka and took the woman's cold, thin hands in hers. "Visas, there's not an option here. I have to stop him, or Telos will fall, and the Republic will fall."

"I ask you; I beg you," Visas cried. "Run. We do not have to fight."

Darden looked up at the worn face of her compassionate friend. "And would you leave the Handmaiden alone with the enemy?" she asked gently. "Would you let Telos be consumed, as your homeworld was? We can't run, Visas. Not this time."

Visas released her hands. She hung her head. "I know," she murmured. "But I could not let you go without asking. It had to be asked, my friend."

"You asked. I said no." Darden replied. "Will you have courage for the path ahead?"

Visas paused. Then she answered. "A little," she said. "For you I will have courage."

She, too, departed.

Atton came in almost immediately. "It did have to be asked," he said in a low voice.

"Mical said it," Darden told him in a gray voice. "We can't let fear rule us with so much at stake."

"It's not me I'm scared for!" Atton snapped. "You think I care what happens to me? Sweetheart, I haven't cared about what happens to me in years, and less than ever since I joined ship with you. The barrels of the guns aren't going to be pointed at me, here!"

"They'll miss me," Darden returned, just as heatedly. "They always do. They shoot right past me and hit everyone I care about, and I live on, if you call what I've been doing living." She turned away from him and started pacing. "They said I'm Malachor, now; that my Bonding ability is leeching off Force Sensitives, that I'm a breach in the Force that must be closed. Kreia thinks I'm a breach in the Force that must be widened. Whatever. They're all wrong, but they're right, too. I am the death of the Jedi!"

Now the tears started. "They were the last ones, the very last, and my idiocy brought her _right to them_! And now an entire Sith Fleet's making for the the bleeding wound in the heart of the Republic, and _I don't know if I can stop it_! With the Handmaiden captured, and only a few militia-men from Dantooine and the _fracking_ TSF to defend Citadel with—"

"There's us, too," Atton interrupted.

"You?" Darden laughed, near-hysterically. "Three defunct droids, a Mandalorian with no reason to help the Republic, and five Padawans that only just finished their first lightsabers? Padawans! I mean, who knows if I've even taught you right? I've been exiled for eleven years, for crying out loud! And I never had a Padawan, even before that. I was just a kid! Just a stupid kid! Not even a nightlight to Revan's sun, whatever everyone says! And I—I—"She sat down hard on the medical cot and started sobbing.

"So we're screwed," Atton said lightly.

Darden laughed through her tears. "Yeah. We kind of are."

Atton sat down beside her.

"Why are you still here, anyway?" Darden asked him in broken tones.

"I signed up because the old scow broke into my head, found out who I'd been and what I'd done, and threatened to tell you if I didn't," Atton said baldly. "Even after I told you, she said she'd bring back those memories, make me feel what I felt then, if I didn't protect you and obey her."

Darden stopped crying immediately. She looked up at Atton. Cold hatred seized her gut. "I'd have killed her," she said. "Bond or no bond. If you'd told me, I'd have killed her."

"And if there is a lethal bond that would have been a bad move. That's why I didn't tell you," Atton said matter-of-factly. "It would have been the Peragus fuel tunnels all over again."

"Or the Dantooine ruins," Darden said bitterly.

"You aren't going to get anything done if you keep focusing on that," Atton told her. "You messed up. But as far as I can tell, if Kreia had waited until after those Jedi had stripped you of the Force to act, we'd be a lot worse off right now. Those Jedi weren't soldiers. You are. They didn't know what's coming. We do. So be the General and make a plan of attack. We'll probably all die anyway, but let's not do it feeling sorry for ourselves."

Darden looked up at him. Funny. Mical had spouted assurances of his allegiance left and right, promised his belief in her, that he acted of free choice. But these practical assurances of their chances, the frank acknowledgment of the terrible mistake she'd made, bolstered her up so much better than Mical had. "You signed up because Kreia blackmailed you," she said slowly. "Atton—why did you stay? Don't tell me you couldn't have left on Nar Shaddaa. Don't tell me you didn't think about it."

"I stayed because apparently you're a freaky Force leech and you've been messing with my head since the day you walked into the brig in your underwear on Peragus," Atton cracked sarcastically. "What do you think, sweetheart?"

Darden took his hand in hers and leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry we're walking into a deathtrap," she said. "If you get hurt—"

"I'll like it a hell of a lot better than if you do," Atton cut her off.

"I love you," Darden told him suddenly, deciding she might as well say it.

Atton stiffened beside her. Then he laughed. "Is that it, then? Are we talking about it now?"

"Does it matter now?" Darden answered him.

"Typical," Atton muttered. "She finally makes up her mind right when we're headed for what's probably going to be a last stand."

He was silent a moment. "I…me, too. You, too. I…uh…I love you, too."

"Yeah. I know."

"Want to do you, too," he added. "That wasn't a game, either."

"I know that, too."

"Don't suppose we'll have the time or privacy now."

Darden considered. Then she extended her hand, reaching out with the Force. The med bay door slammed shut and locked. "It's 300 hours," she said. "If they're not asleep, they ought to be."

Atton looked down at her. His eyes grew dark, and Darden knew he was tempted. He fought a brief, fierce battle with himself. She watched him do it. She felt him do it, with his mind. Then he kissed her forehead, withdrew his hand from hers, and stood. "If you were anybody else I'd take you up on that, sweetheart," he said. "_Anybody_ else. But you're exhausted, you're vulnerable. Sleeping with you now—it'd almost be like you were drunk. A few years ago I wouldn't have cared. Hell, when we met I wouldn't have cared. But now? I like you too much for that." He swore and punched the door open. Darden watched him go with a mixture of fierce pride and odd disappointment. He stopped in the doorway, though.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"If you're still up to it before the big battle in a couple weeks, let me know, huh?"

He winked, and walked out.

Darden sighed, and lay back again. Well. At least he knew. At least they'd said it. If they did all die in a couple weeks at Telos, if it was all her fault, at least she'd told Atton Rand she loved him. She sent a thought through space towards the Handmaiden.

_I'm not dead. I'm coming for you. Hold on. We've got a galaxy to save, and you're in altogether the wrong place._

* * *

**A/N: Not nearly as disjointed as the last chapter, but still a little off-base, I think. On the whole I think I like it, though. **

**Coming Soon: The Handmaiden, mistakenly informed of Darden Leona's death, has taken Kreia in anger back to her former Mistress for sentencing. But the oath-breaker may find she is more prisoner than warden. Can Darden Leona arrive in time to save her youngest Padawan from the 'Last of the Jedi' turned Sith? **

**Read and Review!**

**May the Force Be With You,**

**LMSharp **


	35. The Quiet Fall

**Disclaimer: Yeah, yeah. You know I don't own it by now.**

* * *

XXXIV.

The Quiet Fall

THE HANDMAIDEN

For a long time, the Handmaiden could not think. Even to breathe was an effort. She could see nothing but the old woman's face when she came out of the ruins of the Jedi Enclave.

_"It is true; I am one of the Sith."_

And Visas had been on the ground, insensate, and Kreia had said that Darden was dead with the rest of them, that she had killed them. The Handmaiden had activated her lightsaber. Kreia had not moved.

But as she had leveled her lightsaber at the old woman's throat, one feeling had nearly overwhelmed her. If she killed the murderous witch there in the ruins, in her anger, she would be no better than a Sith herself. It would be giving in to her grief and hate, it would be a fall. And Darden would never have done it.

So the Handmaiden had taken Kreia. Her mind was blurry, distorted by grief. She could not enact the judgment upon the old woman that she deserved. But she knew one who could. Her mistress would see Kreia for what she was. She would know what to do.

Kreia had not put up a fight. It had been a simple matter to purchase a rundown double-man fighter from Khoonda. It was rundown, yes, but it would do the job, and the Handmaiden did not want to wait for the debate with the others to see Kreia to justice. And the Dantooine government was happy to sell to one of those that had preserved their planet.

They had flown nearly a week and a half before Kreia had moved. The Handmaiden had not spoken a word, and neither had Kreia. But just as they broke out of hyperspace above Telos, just as the Handmaiden set course for Atris' Academy, her mind had gone black and her senses had failed her.

She'd awakened hours later, stiff and cramped in the passenger seat of the fighter. The cold around her told her that they had docked in the Academy. She tried to move, but she found she was bound, held immobile by the Force.

It hit her with all the force of a racing speeder that Kreia had wanted to come here. She had not taken the old woman prisoner. She had escorted her. And if Kreia had killed all the other Jedi…

Fear filled her mind, and as it did, it dampened the rage. The Handmaiden felt a presence make itself known then. A small, irritated voice spoke in the back of her consciousness.

_"Figured out she wanted to go now, have you? Can you hear me? You _can_…Finally. Good. Listen." _

Joy surged through the Handmaiden's heart. It was Darden! Darden, alive, and speaking to her through their bond. Such speech was Darden's strength, not hers. The Handmaiden could not form the words to send back her relief, the fear and embarrassment she felt now. But she could listen, and she did.

_"No. I'm not dead. Kreia lied about that, to get away from me and to Telos. No. She didn't lie about the other Jedi. Or about being a Sith. She killed them. All but Atris. Because Atris didn't show up on Dantooine. You know why she didn't."_

During their meditation sessions, the Handmaiden had grown accustomed to the way Darden could telepathically answer questions that she had not verbalized, even in her mind. It was a great strength of her Master's, but this was the first time she had realized how very useful it could be. How potentially lifesaving.

Nevertheless, Darden's direct address of something that the Handmaiden had been trying to avoid confronting for months made her recoil somewhat. Still, she could not deny the truth in Darden's implicit accusation. Her mind was clearing again, and what she was forced to acknowledge now made her face grow hot with shame. But she was a daughter of the Echani, born and bred to face her failings with honor. More, she was a Jedi, and she was no longer blind to the Force.

The Handmaiden reached out with the senses that Darden had taught her to use, and she felt the currents in this place. More specifically, she felt the lack of them. The Force here was not like a river, it was like a lake. It was a stagnant pool of stinking water, deep and dark cold and full of lurking danger and unhealthy slime. Atris had locked herself away from the galaxy in this place and meditated on her grief and anger until it had become hate. And those holocrons that had spoken to her once, she had studied enough under Darden, and read enough in Mical's sparse rescued archives, to know what they truly were now.

Anguish filled her mind, and fear, for her sisters that did not know what they protected.

_"It'll be alright," _Darden told her, sensing her distress.

But the Handmaiden could feel that the words were more than half a lie. There was something Darden was hiding from her, and her teacher was very uncertain that things would, in fact, be alright. _"We left just a few hours after you did. Atton's a better pilot than you are; and the _Ebon Hawk_'s a better ship than that fighter you took. We'll be there in just an hour. Just stay where you are, Handmaiden. We're coming for you."_

Darden's consciousness receded. The Handmaiden felt hope for the first time in over a week, but she also knew she was not going to stay where she was when a Sith, maybe two, threatened Telos. She attacked the Force binding her with her will, searching for a chink in the grip that held her, anything.

* * *

ATRIS' CHAMBERS

Atris was there. Around the old woman the sibilant whispers of the old Sith Masters rustled like the leaves in the wind. They sensed what she was, even in death. The Force moved through them still, turning them toward Its purpose. Always, always writing its own story.

For perhaps the millionth time the old woman wondered if she was not dancing according to its abhorrent design even as she sought to destroy it. The lost soul before her walked her same path. It was a story the Force had written many times before. And there was no redemption, no going back, no matter what the Jedi had preached. The Masters on Dantooine had not allowed the Exile redemption. There had been no forgiveness in their hearts when they died. Only ignorance, and fear, and anger. And it was the same all across the galaxy.

The Exile was different. She had always been different. The old woman sometimes wondered what would have become of her if she had perhaps met Darden Leona earlier, in a different life, and realized what she was then. Could she have found salvation? Would the Force have shown her a different path?

In the Exile there was strength, yes, strength unimaginable, but no power. In the Exile there was conviction, anger, but no hatred. She made her own path and she made a path for others, even without the Force. The old woman would have given much to be one such as Darden Leona. But it was enough to have seen her move. It was enough to have shaped her, however negative the old woman's influence had been. It would be more than enough if the Exile was true to type now, now that the preliminaries were over and the game was in motion.

But this one, this one like herself, but not half so strong—for her there was no hope. No freedom. The Dark Side dominated her utterly. Her regret and rigidity and resentment had mastered her long ago, and worst of all she had yet to realize it. She had fallen, and there would be no return for her. But perhaps she could be of some use before the end. Perhaps she could help to make the Exile understand. Once before she had strengthened the resolve of Darden Leona. She would do so again. As she had led others to the Exile, so now she would lead the Exile to the old woman. And perhaps when the end came at last, Atris could meet it honestly, at least.

"Who is there?" Atris spoke at last into the Darkness. Her voice was flat, uninterested, and full of despair.

"Who I am is not the question."

Atris understood immediately. The two of them had an affinity for subtleties. "I am Atris, Jedi Master…the last historian of the Jedi…the last of the Jedi."

"Those are titles, words you cling to as the darkness falls around you. It is not the first time we have met, Atris. I was here…before."

"With the Exile?"

"Yes, I was here both times when the Exile was brought before you."

She did not release her hold on Atris' mind, as she had done for the Disciple of the Exile. That one was of a better sort, a stronger sort, than she and Atris. Even under his self-imposed restrictions, his moral code, he would have achieved great things in another time, another place. And he had earned the knowledge he had gained, at least. Atris had done no such thing. In any event, it served no purpose to reveal herself completely to Atris now.

"Who are you?"

"I was the one who asked that she be exiled."

"You…you seem familiar to me. You are that which has attacked the Jedi…you are Sith."

The old woman looked down at Atris with contempt only a little tinged with pity. She was a small spirit. But she would play her role now. "'Sith is a title, yes, but like you, the title is not who I am," she said. She spoke slowly to impress the importance of every word on Atris' mind. "It is not what I believe. For you, it is different. Know that there was once a Darth Traya, and that she cast aside that role, was exiled, and found a new purpose. But there must always be a Darth Traya, one that holds the knowledge of betrayal, who has been betrayed in their heart, and who will betray in turn. You have bathed in the knowledge of the Sith. There is not enough truth in such teachings, but it will be a step for you."

Atris flinched, but the old woman continued, merciless. She was beyond mercy now. They both were.

"You have gathered Sith holocrons," she said. "Sith teachings from across the galaxy. It is why you have chosen servants who cannot feel the Force. It is more important that they cannot feel what you have become."

Atris stood, but still she did not turn around. "I have sought to preserve the Jedi Order," she argued, making one last feeble effort to defend herself. "I have gathered all that I know of the Sith to this place so I might find them, and stop them."

The old woman did not attempt to debate with Atris. Atris already knew she had lost. Instead, she circled the room, looking around at the hissing Sith holocrons. They spat at her as she passed in ancient, foreign tongues. Angry, malevolent, yet ultimately, powerless over one whose mind was strong. But Atris' mind was not strong. The old woman kept to the shadows, even now. The blinded one had spoken truly when she placed her there. Always, the old woman had worked best in the shadows, in the dark places of the galaxy, of the mind, while others stood under the light of the stars.

"I had wondered if any of these holocrons had survived Dantooine," the old woman said. "You have taken relics from one destroyed planet to the devastation of another."

"It was always intended for the Jedi to retreat to Telos should Dantooine be attacked," said the historian. "Taking all their lore with them. We could not allow the tragedy of Ossus to happen again."

"Such an act marked Telos for destruction," the old woman lied. "It is why the Sith came here, though the Fleet commanders did not know why. It is why Revan ordered its destruction to mark the beginning of the Jedi Civil War. It was a message that there would be no place for the Jedi to retreat, to hide. I would not be surprised if Revan left other gifts beneath the surface of the planet; much can be buried beneath graveyards that will never be found."

Malak had ordered the destruction of Telos. It had been an act of brutality, of cruelty without finesse. Dantooine had been destroyed long after Revan had ceased to be commander of the Sith, so it was beyond the abilities of anyone to guess whether or not she would have ordered the Enclave destroyed. The old woman also knew well that Revan rarely trusted secrets that she could not carry with her in her own head. Nevertheless, the lie was a good one. The 'message' the old woman had invented was one that Atris might have sent in Revan's place, and the idea that the destruction of Telos had been engineered solely because Telos was the last retreat of the Jedi would only serve to fuel Atris' already raging guilt and anger.

Indeed, Atris hung her head. "When the Sith attacked I felt Telos die," she murmured. "Turbolasers fell like lightning upon the landscape. As they did on Dantooine. And so many died, so many voices…screaming in pain."

"Yes," the old woman agreed. "Such acts leave their mark upon the galaxy. Their cries travel far, though few can hear them." If things went well, all would hear them soon, however. And if they did not go well, it would have almost been enough, to shape her, to see her grow.

"How did it happen?" Atris asked. She was not speaking of Telos and Dantooine.

The old woman curled her lip. Still she did not see. "Search your heart. It was never battle that called to you, never battle that caused you to fall. Malachor V touched many things, and it casts its echoes still."

"Why did she betray me?" the newborn Darth Traya asked in a small voice, a child's voice.

"You betrayed yourself," the old woman answered. "Do not blame the Exile." More quietly, she added, "And unlike you and I, there is still a chance that one may be saved. The one that you cast out." The Exile's salvation would be the old woman's damnation. But then, she had been damned a long time ago.

"Where is the Exile? I had thought…"

"She will come," the old woman interrupted. "But it will be too late to save either of us. It is such a quiet thing, to fall. But far more terrible is to admit it."

Darth Traya nodded, and for the first time she turned to face the old woman directly. "What must I do?"

The old woman permitted herself one bitter smile. Then she proceeded to give Darth Traya her initiation ordeal.

* * *

DARDEN

Darden could feel men and women dying, going screaming into the Darkness on the other side of Telos. Visas' Master, Nihilus, had arrived in an old ship, a near-destroyed ship, a ship she recognized from Malachor V. Well, they had told her more than once these new Sith were spawned by Malachor V. The _Ravager_ had brought other ships with her. Not many, true. But enough. Citadel Station wasn't a military installation, regardless of the TSF's ties to the Republic Fleet. It couldn't withstand any sustained bombardment for long. And the real Republic Fleet was still in hyperspace.

Darden's soldier instincts were pulling at her, insisting she tell Atton to turn the ship around and make for Citadel. She'd put so much into rebuilding this world, and they all knew the fate of the Republic hung on what happened here. The Handmaiden was one person. Strategically insignificant, Malak would have said. Many of them would have said. Collateral damage. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it was her own damned fault, too.

Except the Handmaiden was a Jedi, or could be, one day. And the people the Handmaiden faced were Sith. And whereas the Sith on the other side of the planet had people to meet them, at least for a few hours, the Sith here had no one to meet them. This whole conflict, beginning with the Mandalorian Wars, continuing through the Jedi Civil War, on until this bitter end, was all about Jedi and Sith.

Mical had said it. Atton had said it. Kreia had said it. And Revan had said it, though never outright. It had been there in her strategy, in her troop placement and leadership. During the Wars Darden had fought beside her, and the War afterwards.

Darden paced the cockpit. She could feel the Handmaiden in her mind, pushing at the bonds Kreia held her in. They were weakening. Not because Kreia was tiring, but because Kreia would soon have no need to imprison the girl any longer. Kreia was leaving, and they didn't have the fuel or the time to pursue her.

Just then Bao-Dur and HK-47 entered the cockpit.

"General, Citadel Station has just sent a message. Still no word from the Republic, and the HK-50 units have entered the battle," Bao-Dur said.

"Oh, what now?" Atton exclaimed. "On whose side?"

"Statement: Those inferior imitations of myself are enacting assassination protocols on Sith and Telosians alike, meatbag. They seem to have chosen this battle to have initiated their war against the galaxy."

"War against the galaxy?" Darden repeated.

"Answer: Yes, master. I believe I have tried to inform you of this many times. The purpose of the HK-50 droids has become corrupted. Their function is not assassination, the elimination of a specific target, but rather slaughter. Highly enjoyable, but very crude. Statement: These imposters are sending troops from their base here on the surface."

"We can't fight on _three_ fronts, General," Bao-Dur said. "I've run a tech scan on the arctic mesa. That shuttle we used to get to the irrigation system in the first place months back? It's still there, and the readings say it's salvageable. I could go with HK-47 and try to disable the factory spitting out the HK-50s. Odds are there'll be something there that we can use to shut the whole lot down. A recall code, maybe."

Darden paced faster. HK-47 had been chomping at the bit to take out the HK-50 units since he'd found out they were manufactured on Telos. They were more of a nuisance to Darden than an actual threat, but she knew Citadel Station wouldn't be able to reach out to the Force to fry the droids' circuits. And without that advantage, she knew what the HK-50s could do.

"I won't be able to back you up, Bao-Dur," she warned him. "I've got Kreia, Nihilus, and probably Atris to deal with, and the Handmaiden, Citadel Station, and probably the entire Republic to save."

"I know, General," Bao-Dur said.

"_He_ can't fire on the HK-50 units," Darden reminded Bao-Dur, with a savage, impatient gesture at Revan's assassin droid.

"Statement: There are always other ways, master. I have seen you in action. You are aware of this fact."

Darden glared at him. "Look, I like droids in general," she told him. "But I don't trust you. We can't afford to lose Bao-Dur on some stupid gizka-chase right now."

"I've run the message multiple times," Bao-Dur said. "The threat checks out. General, there has to be a point where you start trusting us to do the jobs you trained us to do."

He looked at her levelly.

"Landing in five minutes," Atton said.

Darden looked out the front display, and saw a ship rocket away from the Telosian polar region. The Handmaiden suddenly broke free of her restraints. Darden felt her elation and determination, felt her start moving.

_"Don't be an idiot!" _

But she wasn't listening.

"Kreia!" Darden muttered.

"That ship hers?" Atton asked.

"Yeah," Darden confirmed. "And here we are left with a galactic ton of roadblocks to deal with before we can get after her! Dammit!" She took in a deep breath.

For time's sake, she knew she had to send Bao-Dur after the HK-50 units. She turned to her first apprentice and regarded him.

"You sure you're ready for this?" she asked him.

"I won't let you down, General," he promised her. "I won't let Telos down."

"I'm not sure I'm ready for this," Darden murmured. Then she nodded. She stepped up to Bao-Dur, took his rough-skinned gray face between the palms of her hands and brought it down, stood up on tiptoe, and kissed his forehead . She released him, and he stood straight again. The corner of his mouth curved up. /May the Force be with you,/ Darden told him, in halting Zabrak. She hadn't spoken the language of Iridonia in years.

Bao-Dur saluted. "General." He nodded to HK-47. "Let's go."

He stopped at the doorway. "Bring her back," he said.

"We will," Darden told him. "And if HK-47 gives you any trouble," she added in a hard voice, "Fry his circuits along with the other models."

HK-47's red eyes glowed with something approximating respect for the first time. Then he preceded Bao-Dur to the ramp. Atton was flying them into the docking bay of Atris' Academy.

"You think he'll be alright?" Atton wanted to know.

"I don't know if any of us will be alright come day's end, Atton," Darden said quietly.

Atton landed the _Ebon Hawk_. Darden heard the boarding ramp screech open.

They were all of them in the main hold waiting for her, minus Bao-Dur and HK-47.

"Where is she?"

"What are we up against?"

"What's the plan of attack?"

Darden waited for the questions to die down.

"Kreia has left the building, bound for who knows where," she said when they quieted. "We can presume anyone remaining here, save the last of the Handmaidens, is an enemy. Objective is to locate the last of the Handmaidens and incapacitate any adversaries." She hesitated.

"The Handmaiden's Echani. She has five half-sisters in service here. For those of you that know about the Echani—"

"They look almost exactly alike," Canderous grunted.

"Yes," Darden said. "Our Handmaiden will be wearing a Jedi robe and wielding a lightsaber, so it shouldn't be too difficult. In addition, the other Handmaidens will probably try to kill you. Just…be careful."

"Understood," Mira said. "Take out the look-alikes; save our Handmaiden."

"Do not kill the others," Mical said. "I do not think our friend would appreciate the slaughter of her kindred, however misguided they are."

Darden nodded. "And guys? Leave Atris to me."

* * *

HANDMAIDEN

The Handmaiden knew she had made a terrible mistake. She knew that her release meant that Kreia had escaped, bound for regions unknown. The _Ebon Hawk_ was near. She felt Darden's presence approaching. She even felt the others, faintly, though sensing such things with her mind was not her strongest point.

Still, as the Handmaiden crawled out of the cockpit of the two-man fighter, she did not make for the other hangar. She made for the other side of the irrigation system, towards the barracks, and towards Atris' meditation chamber. Perhaps there was still time. Perhaps she could speak to her sisters, to Atris, make them understand, somehow, stop this. There did not need to be violence here this day.

Her body was moving, separated from her mind, as her training took over.

But she stopped when she came to the room that Atris had set up as a Council chamber, with white seats arranged inside the perimeter of the circular walls. Her five sisters stood between her and Atris.

The Handmaiden took in their stances, their feet firmly planted shoulder-width apart, their faces hard and cold. Each gripped her staff, and it was leveled at her. Her sisters had cared for her since she was a child. They had taught her to walk, and then to fight. They had taught her the Echani history, and the forms of combat. She loved them dearly. But the Handmaiden well knew that to her sisters, she had ever been a symbol of Yusanis' shame. They had cared for her out of duty, and not out of affection. And now she stood before them as a traitor. She knew it by their faces.

"The last of the Handmaidens is before us," said the eldest coldly. She had requested that Atris take the Handmaiden on as a favor. The Handmaiden remembered how proud she had been that day, thirteen years of age, how she had taken her oath. She had not understood what it meant.

"It is good that you have returned," said the second of her sisters. She had taken an hour out of her own training each day to help the Handmaiden practice certain rituals that did not come easily to her. "You have much to answer for."

The Handmaiden bowed. "What are you saying?" she asked. They would not hurt her. Would they?

"You have betrayed us," her third sister said. The Handmaiden remembered her from her earliest days. When the Handmaiden had woken in the night from a child's nightmare, she had gone to her third sister, and her third sister had told her Echani stories, and tales of their father, Yusanis. Later, when they were alone, her third sister had even told her of her mother. She had always been more sympathetic, and on the days when the Handmaiden had imagined that she was loved at all, she had thought her third sister might love her. But now her third sister's face was hard, hurt. "You have betrayed Atris."

"You are no longer one of us. You followed the Jedi, betrayed your oath," accused her second sister.

The Handmaiden shook her head, held up her hands. "Listen to me," she begged. "Atris has been touched by the Sith. It is not too late to—"

"Silence!" cried her third sister.

Her first three sisters had not used their names as long as she could remember. But the last two—the fourth was only two years older and the last only a few months older than she—they had carried names at the same time. She had been unable to forget them, even as she had been unable to forget her own. And Reni and Rayhal hated her.

"It is a crime to kill blood," Reni said coldly. She was shaking. Her anger had always been her weakness. "But not to kill a betrayer such as you."

The Handmaiden kept her hands raised. "I will not fight you," she said.

Rayhal's face was stern. All of her sisters were stern and unyielding, though the Handmaiden saw regret in her first and third sisters' eyes. "Then you shall fall," said Rayhal.

All her sisters attacked her.

The Handmaiden's training took over, both that she had received as a child among her sisters, and that she had received as the apprentice of Darden Leona. She heard her first and second sisters speaking to her as a child of six or seven.

_"The true test of battle is how much to bring to your opponents. If you wish to kill them, do not hold back. But if you wish to stun them, incapacitate them, then you must choose your attacks carefully, using just the right amount of force, just the right weapon, to stop them." _

She did not reach for her lightsaber. The blade would cut through her sisters' weapons like twigs and through their bodies like butter, and she did not want to kill them, though they sought to kill her. Instead, she moved in the Shien mode, the one for use against multiple opponents, striking underneath their guards with fist and feet…and with the Force that they were deaf to.

Her elder sisters moved more slowly than she was used to. At first, as the Handmaiden disarmed Reni, held her immobile with the Force, then dropped her unconscious with a well-placed blow to the head so she need no longer expend energy on her, she believed that her sisters were not nearly so eager to fight her as they claimed. As the battle progressed, however, the girl that up until now had been known as the last of the Handmaidens realized that her sisters were fighting as they always had. Their faces were resolute, their movements both rapid and powerful. Yet they could not overcome her. Sometime in her travels, she had surpassed them.

Finally she had incapacitated all but Rayhal, the most passionate of her sisters, and her eldest sister, the most experienced of all of them. Rayhal came at her, eyes blazing. "Why do you not use your lightsaber, traitor?" she spat. "Why not just kill us?" Rayhal leapt at her, and she blocked Rayhal's attack with an ease that she certainly had not commanded months before. At the same time she reached out with the Force and pushed her eldest sister out of a jumping kick. Her eldest sister fell to the floor.

She and Rayhal's limbs were locked together. She stared into Rayhal's face. She had been born not nine months after Rayhal. While her sisters' mother had carried Rayhal, their father had been betraying them with her mother. "You have always hated me," she said, with some wonder, and more than a little sadness. "I can feel it in you. You have waited for this, wanted this. But I do not hate you, and what I do here is not a betrayal, but an action that is true to what I am. And I- I am your sister. But I am not one of you."

She put Rayhal to the ground beside her older sisters, and turned to her eldest sister, just rising.

"You are not one of us," her eldest sister agreed. Her eldest sister's face was resigned, but she felt no hatred from her. Her eldest sister squared off against her. "Nevertheless, you swore an oath. Whether or not you understood it, whether or not you were even capable of abiding by its terms, Atris holds you to that oath. And I am bound by my oath to her to detain you."

"Sister, please," the girl that had been the last of the Handmaidens pled, sensing something that might be mercy. "Atris is not what we have thought her, and Darden Leona is not what she says. The holocrons in her chamber, they are not of the Jedi—they are Sith, and Atris is fallen. Atris, not the Exile!"

"What you say may be true," said her eldest sister. "But you may have been taken in by the Exile's lies. You would not be the first. And in any case, I am sworn to Atris, not the Exile, and I will not betray my oath. I cannot betray my oath."

The girl that had been the last of the Handmaidens bowed her head. "Forgive me," she murmured. While her eldest sister was still poised for action, she moved, and dropped her eldest sister to the ground with one, economical blow, just like the others. To all five of them she whispered. "I hope you will one day understand."

She moved from the Council Chamber. Atris met her on the bridge over the reservoir, like she had Darden, the first time Darden had come. Darden's lightsaber, the one she had wielded during the Mandalorian Wars, was clenched in her right fist, though it was deactivated. Still, Atris came forward to meet her, and Atris grasped her by the shoulders.

"Where have you been?" she asked softly. "You have been absent so long. I feared for your safety."

Like her sisters, Atris had looked down on her for her parentage. She had hung on Atris' every word, starved for the trickle of the Force that she had felt back then, the breath of breeze on her face that only made her yearn all the more for the open air. More than anything, more than her sisters' love even; she had craved Atris' approval. And now Atris was looking at her with such concern…had Atris cared for her? Had there been room in her hardened, cold heart for the least of her Handmaidens? It hadn't seemed so, and yet…

"Were you with the Exile all this time?" Atris asked, and Atris' fingernails dug into her shoulder. Immediately the girl that had been the last of the Handmaidens knew that it was a lie. Atris still lived in the Mandalorian Wars, still stayed behind as Darden Leona left, and still hated her for it. And now that hatred was extended to her. She had an idea how deep that hatred went, but she did not truly know. So the girl decided to tread carefully.

She reminded Atris of who had told her to go with Darden. "Mistress, as you commanded, I—"

Atris stepped back, and her face was hard, icy now. "Commanded?" Atris interrupted. "Did I command you to follow her teachings? To betray your oath?"

She tried again. "Mistress, the Exile taught me many things—"

Atris smiled cruelly. "I'm certain she did. And now perhaps it is time to show me what you have learned."

She activated her lightsaber.

The girl that had been the last of the Handmaidens stepped back. Atris was a Jedi Master. It had never been her intention to challenge Atris to a lightsaber duel. She had hoped that Atris might allow her to speak, that she could somehow get Atris to see what she had become before the situation was unsalvageable. "Mistress, I do not understand—"

"Of course you do not," Atris sneered. "But you will learn. You have had a _long_ journey, and I am anxious to see what you have learned of war and battle."

Atris came at her, and reflexively, she activated her own lightsaber to block the downstroke. When Atris saw the color and make of the blade, the same as the one that she held, she snarled. Atris moved into an Ataru form, but the Echani girl countered with Soresu, unwilling to meet her mistress' aggression with aggression.

"Atris—we need not battle," she insisted. "Listen to me—"

She stepped back and defended again, falling now into the rhythm of lightsaber combat. It struck her suddenly how many years it had been since Atris had battled with a lightsaber. It was there in the weakness of the arms, the sloppiness of the stance. Her mistress had spent a lifetime avoiding battle. Of late, she had avoided Jedi altogether, sinking into her hoarded knowledge of the Sith in a self-imposed Exile. It had frozen her, and she was breakable. The anger was there, yes, the hatred. But no conviction, no self-assurance. The daughter of Arren Kae, the apprentice of Darden Leona, realized that she could easily defeat Atris.

She did not press her advantage. She merely defended herself. But Atris realized this was what she was doing. Her attacks grew steadily more desperate, more frenzied. Her face twisted until it marred the beauty that Darden Leona's apprentice had always admired, warped it into a mask of hatred and jealousy.

"You battle as she did," Atris sneered. "It is so easy for you. Battle calls to you, does it not? Sings to you, like a siren. What is it costing you to hold back now, now that you have betrayed me? Enough!"

The daughter of Arren Kae was thrown back to the floor of the reservoir bridge with a Force she could not match. Not in raw power. Lightning hit her chest, and she screamed, thinking, _so this is what scarred the blind one. How is she yet living? _

Electricity burned through her muscles and fire through her veins. She could not control her movements and her lightsaber fell out of her hand and rolled away, useless. Atris stood over her, shooting the blue bolts from her fingers.

"Did she say she cared for you?" she demanded, in a shrill, breaking voice. "Did she call you her sister, her friend?"

Another bolt. The young girl tried to answer her mistress, but she bit her tongue and blood filled her mouth. Her scream came out garbled. "There is no kindness, no friendship in that one!" Atris screamed down at her. "She is a shell! All that she was died at Malachor, and she dies there still!"

Another bolt. Ringing filled the girl's ears and the edges of her vision went red as blood vessels in her eyes burst.

"Darden!" she screamed, with mouth and mind. "Darden!"

"She dies there still!" Atris repeated bitterly. "As she should!"

"Atris!" Darden's voice rang out like a bell, echoing across the reservoir. Her apprentice heard it and smiled just before the world went black and she knew no more.

_Mistress, my Master is here. Do you fear her? You should. She is more than capable of dealing with the likes of you. _


	36. Brianna

**Disclaimer: All hail Lucasfilm and Obsidian. Please pardon the humble fanfic writer.**

* * *

XXXV.

Brianna

The Handmaiden was on the ground. Smoke was rising from her robe. Her face had been contorted in pain. She had been screaming. Now she was still…so very still.

Darden Leona, the Jedi Exile, had been through hell a dozen times over. She had tread where no one else ever walked. She had survived battlegrounds where four out of five men had died in agony, and three of those five had been men she had ordered to die. She had wiped out a planet, killing thousands in a single stroke so horrific she had severed her own connection with the Force just to survive the psychic blow. But she had missed the Jedi Civil War.

Never had she actually seen Jedi turn on Jedi. She had not been there when Revan had turned her soldiers into Sith, and apprentice had turned upon Master, and both had died in an agony not only physical, but emotional. She had not seen the Darkness of the Sith, had not faced that evil.

Now she did. Now she saw her youngest apprentice laying out before her on the bridge over an ancient arctic reservoir. The brave, trusting girl had forsaken everything for her, putting her life on the line. And would it mean her life? Darden didn't know. She had arrived just in time to see the Handmaiden writhing on the ground as Atris shot bolts of Force Lightning into her body. Darden could feel that the lifeforce of the girl lingered. But for how long?

She leveled her lightsaber at Atris over the Handmaiden's prone form.

Atris' face was distorted with unmasked hatred.

"So. One exile has arrived to save another."

"You would kill a helpless opponent?" Darden demanded of her. "One that loved you? You have fallen far, indeed." She ached to kneel beside the Handmaiden, to check her vitals, to heal, and to take her away. But she couldn't. So she shot a thought towards Atton, the one student of hers with a decided talent for telepathy, the one to whom she was most connected, and the one she could reach with the least energy expenditure.

_"I found her. In the old reservoir. Come quick; bring the others. She's hurt."_

_ "She plowed through her sisters to get there. They're coming to. We gotta make sure they're secure," _Atton 'replied' nearly immediately. _"We'll come as soon as we can. Is Atris there?"_

_ "Yes."_

_ "You watch yourself."_

Darden let the contact ebb away. Atris had said something, that it was no crime to kill a Sith.

She cut Atris off impatiently. "Surrender, Atris. I don't want to fight you, or anyone."

Atris sneered. "Such a noble offer. Your execution has been too long delayed, exile." She threw her lightsaber at Darden. Darden ducked, and Atris ran. Towards her meditation chamber, where she kept those mysterious holocrons. The Handmaiden had thought something about them as Darden had made her way here. It was hard for Darden to get a read on the Handmaiden when she wasn't able to also read her body language, but the fear and apprehension had come across their link loud and clear, and Darden had a good idea why Atris would head towards her meditation chamber to seek strength for their battle.

Now she would have to choose between confronting and stopping Atris and caring for her apprentice. And if she pursued Atris, the Dark Side would gain a foothold in her mind in the combat. Darden took a deep breath.

She knelt beside the Handmaiden and took the girl's wrist in her hand. The pulse was strong, the temperature normal. The skin was scorched, and Darden knew from her studies that the girl's muscular and nervous systems would be damaged by the Lightning Atris had shot through her, but she would heal, and she would live. Why hadn't she just stayed put?

Darden stood. More importantly, why had Kreia come here? Why did Kreia think it was important for Darden to face Atris again? This was more than a distraction. It always was, with Kreia.

Darden followed Atris across the bridge and to her meditation chamber.

_"The Handmaiden's on the bridge," _she thought to Atton. _"I'm going after Atris."_

Atton sent back a thought of acknowledgement, and Darden opened the doors to Atris' meditation chamber. She stopped dead, and looked around in mingled wonder and horror. Holocrons lined the circular wall of the chamber, at least ten feet high. And they weren't _Jedi _holocrons. The Force here wasn't cool or serene or wise. It was hot and angry. It was the Dark Side. The Sith spirits recorded in the holocrons hissed at her as she stepped to the center of the room. It was Korriban in miniature, right here in the middle of Telos.

Atris was standing in the middle of the room, Darden's old lightsaber at the ready. "She said you would come here, to this place." The _she _was Kreia, Darden knew. "If you think to defeat me here, you are wrong. All this collected knowledge, all these teachings of combat and the Force, they're mine to command. And if I must use them to end you, I will. Surrender. You need not die."

"Don't pretend like you wouldn't love to kill me," Darden retorted. "Atris, you've fallen to the Dark Side. Don't you know?"

She did. Darden saw it in her face. But she did not fully realize what it meant. Darden wondered if Atris could understand. "Atris," the former Jedi Master said, rolling her own name around in her mouth. "That is not who I am. Not any longer. She has not existed for some time, I think. There was always something else within me; it just took time for its voice to be heard."

"Why did you listen?" Darden asked her, trying to keep this confrontation verbal, trying to engage Atris in thought. It had worked for the servant. Perhaps it would work for the mistress.

"The old woman you traveled with finally made me listen to myself, to the galaxy. She said that you would come here, that you would face me in battle." Atris spoke the words as if she had memorized them. Her eyes were angry and unfocused.

Darden took a step closer, intentionally leaving her guard wide open. "I came because the Handmaiden came, and I knew you wouldn't accept her," she said. "I came because Telos is in danger. I did not come to fight you. Please, you can still join with me to face the Sith."

Atris smirked. "Yes," she said slowly. "The Sith are here at last. You have brought them to this place, as I had foreseen. It has all been part of my plans for you. And when I defeat you and the forces you have brought to Telos, I shall take this battle to the heart of the Sith and wipe them out, forever."

And that was it, Darden realized. She lowered her lightsaber entirely. That was why Kreia had brought her back here, set up this confrontation. "You had plans for me," she repeated. "Atris?"

"These Sith are cowards," Atris declared proudly. "Striking from the shadows to kill Jedi. I needed a target to draw them out. But I could not risk my own life, all that remained of the Jedi. So I arranged for you to return to the Republic, leaked information of your past, and then waited for the Sith to come. And they did. But you came to Telos, against my predictions. Now they are here, I can finally face this enemy and defeat them."

Darden swallowed, absorbing the information. "I asked the Republic records of my contributions to the Mandalorian Wars and my survival and subsequent exile to be suppressed," she said, finally. "Yet ever since I came back at the beginning of this year, almost everyone I've met has known exactly who I am and what I've done. I'd wondered—and all this time it was you?" Hot anger surged through her. "I was your Sithbait? And everyone that's chased me all year, they only knew about me because you told them!" She brought her lightsaber up again.

The Sith holocrons around her laughed in their sibilant voices. Darkness swirled around Darden and Atris. Darden took a breath, and lowered her lightsaber again, letting go of her anger, as she had taught Bao-Dur. Mastering her emotions. "What is this place?" she asked, more calmly.

"All the knowledge of the Sith, gathered from across the galaxy," Atris answered. "Brought here by my servants, so that I might uncover their secrets, and use them to track them down. But now they have been drawn from the shadows of the Outer Rim. And the only final matter to attend to is finishing you." Her face contorted and a muscle in her right arm twitched.

Quickly Darden asked, "And when the Sith are defeated, then what?"

"When the Sith are destroyed, then I shall rebuild the Jedi Order again," Atris replied. "They shall have none of the weaknesses of before. They shall be strong, willing to take battle to any who oppose them and weaken the Republic. They shall not train those who are easily corrupted, no more students who will bring war and hate to the galaxy."

Darden stepped closer, keeping her eyes locked on Atris' ice blue ones. "No. The hate is in your own heart. Do you think that your Jedi Order will escape it? Your Jedi will be Sith, Atris!"

Atris waved a hand impatiently as the Sith holocrons growled. "The Sith are the Jedi, the Jedi are the Sith. What matters is that they be preserved. All the lore, all the teachings: brought to a new generation. I am the last of the Jedi, and I will show them this truth, bring it to the galaxy."

Darden looked pointedly around the room. "You haven't brought anything anywhere," she argued. "You're hiding, and that's all. You didn't go to Dantooine, you didn't go to Katarr."

"I did not hide! I did what was necessary to fight the Sith and preserve the last of the Jedi."

Something in her words made Darden's stomach drop. "Jedi have _died_, Atris! Katarr. Tell me: did you know?"

Atris looked troubled for the first time since Darden had begun talking to her here. "I sensed what would happen on Katarr, yes," she admitted. "It was I who leaked knowledge of its presence in the hopes of drawing the Sith out. I will not deceive you: I knew what would happen there, but it had to be done to make the Sith reveal themselves." Hastily, she added, "But I did not know the extent of their power, and what that meant for the Jedi! I will not underestimate them again."

"You made a Revan-gambit," Darden spat contemptuously, feeling sick. "But you're not Revan!" Yet if Revan had never made such gambits much more successfully in the Mandalorian Wars—if she had never made such gambits—Atris would have never attempted to mimic them at Katarr. Darden realized this, and the weight of the Mandalorian Wars fell on her once again.

"This is not about Revan, this is about you!" Atris yelled. "From the destruction of Katarr, a vision emerged. It is the last act the Jedi were able to perform before the planet was destroyed. All Jedi, everywhere, knew through the Force that the path to the Sith lay through you, because you stood at her side, enacted her commands."

"No, this is about Revan," Darden retorted. "This has always been about Revan. Let me tell you something, Atris. I followed Revan. I was her soldier. Once upon a time, I think I may have even been her friend. But _I am not Revan_. I did not seek the Sith, I did not build Sith, and if the Sith have learned from me, it is my burden to bear, but it is a tragic accident, and nothing more. And as for the vision from Katarr? Visions can be misinterpreted. Warped, just like the people that have them. Like you have been warped. You knew what would happen at Katarr. You didn't warn them. Why?"

Atris tossed her head. "They knew the risks! I did what I did because they sought to hide, to reflect, to hesitate while our numbers thinned and Jedi died. They knew the risks in going to Katarr, and they deserved what happened to them. It was their punishment for hiding from the galaxy, for hiding from me."

"They were trying to help! Atris, are you even listening to yourself?" Darden demanded, incredulous. "It wasn't just the Jedi at Katarr. An entire planet died!"

"You would know about that, General Darden Leona!"

"_Yes!_ I would!" Tears streamed from Darden's eyes as she glared at the Sith.

Atris glared right back. "As if you have nott thought the same. Who are these Jedi who survive the Jedi Civil War? They are not the Jedi I knew, the ones I once worshipped. They are cowards and doubters and afraid. What manner of Jedi hides from a threat? Who turns on their own and imprisons them on dead worlds?"

"Who are you, Atris?" Darden said. Her words and Atris' hung in the air, and Darden saw Atris acknowledge the self-portrait she had painted, acknowledge that she was the very image of those Jedi she had despised and condemned to death. But it did not break her. It did nothing to remove her hatred. Darden sighed, suddenly very, very weary. "Enough. You spoke with Kreia. Did she tell you anything? Do you know where the Sith are striking from?"

"I do not know yet," Atris lied. Darden saw and knew she lied. "But it does not matter. They have come here to face the Republic in battle, and they will be destroyed."

Darden squared her shoulders and brought her guard up, then. "Maybe," she said quietly. "If the Force is with us. But they will not be destroyed by you, Atris. It's over. Surrender, and we don't have to fight here."

Atris laughed loudly and the Sith holocrons screamed. "Surrender? To you? Never! Let us end this."

She attacked.

Darden kept her eyes locked with Atris' through the entire battle. She knew where Atris would move before she moved, because Atris was a historian, not a warrior, and because she was full of hate. Indeed, Atris kept to the classical forms, and the archaic versions of those. Every now and then she would unleash a Force attack, always the aggressive ones. Force Lightning, like she'd used on the Handmaiden. Attacks meant to wound, or poison her with the Force. They were Dark and angry as she was Dark and angry. Sometimes whenever Atris did this, Darden would dodge the attacks. The muscle tells were easy enough to predict and avoid. Sometimes, Darden would shut the door in her head on the Force, the one she'd found she could open and shut at will.

As they fought, Darden found that when she did shut the door in her head to the Force, Atris' attacks grew more erratic, weaker. She couldn't sense Darden properly. And when Darden shut herself off from the Force, the psychic pressure on her from the Darkness in the room all but vanished. She was alone in her head, and she could see clearly, while Atris could not see at all.

So Darden slammed the door once more, deactivated her lightsaber, and came at Atris with her hands and feet alone. She interspersed Jedi forms with Echani forms, even some Mandalorian ones. As she did this, Atris steadily lost ground. Her cold blue eyes grew wide and frantic. Sweat broke out all over her face, and her silvery hair came loose from its tight binding to fall around her shoulders and into her eyes. Her lightsaber, Darden's old lightsaber, flew wide of its mark every single time.

Atris had been a historian. She had fallen to the Dark Side now. But she existed in a self-deluded exile, isolated from war, from truth, surrounded by lying holocrons that had distorted her view of the galaxy. As Darden's pupils filed into the door, there came a moment when Darden knew that Atris had nothing left. So she brought her left forearm up under Atris' arms, knocking the lightsaber out of her hands. It clattered to the floor and lay there, humming. Darden punched Atris hard in the stomach, and then swiftly brought her foot behind the taller woman's knees, kicking her to kneel before her. She brought her hand down like a blade onto Atris' shoulder. She felt the woman's collarbone break. She heard it crack.

Atris cried aloud, and Darden opened the door in her head all at once. She felt Atris' pain. Then she called her lightsaber to her. Hers, silver-bladed and simple and crafted for the person she was now, not the child that had fought in the Mandalorian Wars. She leveled the blade at Atris' face.

"Kill me," Atris said between gritted teeth. "End this."

Darden looked down at Atris, the murderess, the reason the Jedi as they had been had died out at Katarr, the reason Visas no longer had a world, the reason she had been pursued night and day this past year by Republic, Exchange, and Sith alike. She was a twisted, pathetic thing, lost in her hatred and doubt. She deserved death.

Darden deactivated her lightsaber. "No. You're not worth it."

From the sides of the room, her five pupils watched silently. The Handmaiden leaned on Mical. Her face was pale and her eyes were shadowed. Darden could see her shaking all over. But she was standing, nonetheless. Mical supported her, but he was watching Atris. All of them did, faces impassive.

Atris looked at Darden. "I did not expect mercy from you, here at the end. After all that has happened between us."

"No? Well, as I am not Revan, I am not you, either," Darden said coldly.

"She half-killed the Handmaiden, Darden," Mira spoke up from the sidelines. Darden noticed that Mira had her lightsaber in hand, though it was deactivated. They all did, save the Handmaiden. The Handmaiden kept her eyes on Darden's face, and she was at peace.

"The Handmaiden will recover," Darden said to Mira. "Would we, if we killed _this_? Look at her."

She gestured at Atris. Atris' self-loathing, her delusion and smallness was apparent to all of them as she knelt on the floor before them. The Sith holocrons screamed.

"She's Sith, too, isn't she?" Atton asked.

"She fell," Darden replied.

"There is a difference between falling to the Dark Side and a Sith," Visas said.

"I know," Darden said, smiling at the Miraluka in approval. "Put away your weapons," she said to all of them.

Atris had been looking from face to face, especially at the Handmaiden. "Are these all—" she began.

Darden looked down at her. "_These_ are the Jedi, Atris," she told the fallen woman.

Atris struggled to rise, and cried out in pain. "Kill me!" she demanded.

Darden felt Atris' hatred of her surge, felt Atris' failure and despair. She knew that seeing this, seeing Darden stand before her, unfallen, with a new rising Jedi Order at her side, was the worst thing for Atris, cut deeper than anything else. "No."

Atris grit her teeth. "If you will not kill me, then what will you do?" she hissed from between them.

"It's not what I'll do, Atris, it's what you'll do," Darden replied. She gestured to the room. "What happened here?" As she spoke, she nodded to Mical. Mical half-carried the Handmaiden over to Mira, and Mira took over supporting the girl. Mical moved to the center of the room, and knelt beside Atris.

His hands cradled her shoulder, sending the healing Force through her body, and Atris glared at him, and at Darden. She did not move to oppose them, however. She answered Darden. "This knowledge of the Sith, and the Jedi, is what I am. It is my attempt to hold on to the past, to try and protect the future."

"Why did you gather these Sith relics?" Darden asked.

"I sought to preserve the knowledge of the Jedi, and to do that, I needed to know the Sith, in order to stop them," Atris explained. "Once I was a historian, the chronicler of the Jedi. And when both wars passed me by, I was determined that I would not forsake battle again. In some part of me, I knew that I had made choices, compromises, but always for the sake of the Republic, of the galaxy. To do what you had done at times did not seem so wrong."

"Obviously," Darden said bitterly. "Except you didn't understand why I did it, and you didn't understand me."

Atris bit back a groan as her bone set and Mical stepped away. "I feel I understand what drove you to battle," she argued. "To fight the Mandalorians. It was something you could not turn away from."

"You do not understand," the Handmaiden said quietly. Darden could hear the pain that still racked her voice. "You do not understand choice. Darden's, mine—or your own, Atris."

Atris did not reply.

Darden addressed her again. "You lied before. Where are the Sith striking from?"

Atris looked up through her hair, still on her knees before Darden. "You always knew where they were striking from," she snapped. "You always knew. These Sith are spawned of _you_, spawned of the Mandalorian Wars. All those deaths, all those Jedi. Their power is to feed on life, until nothing is left except a hollow galaxy, _echoing with the screams of the Jedi lost to us._"

Of course. Darden looked around the room, looked at her students. They understood, all right. Mical nodded grimly. Mira paled, and the Handmaiden's fingers tightened on Mira's arm until they were chalk white. Visas stood dead still. Atton was suddenly there in Darden's mind, holding onto her psychically, if not physically.

In a rasp of a voice, Darden asked Atris, "Is that where Kreia's gone?"

Atris stared up at Darden. "Yes. I had thought that she was awaiting me at that place, but I see now that she lied. It was not meant for me, but for you. She is waiting for you to travel to Malachor V, to finish what you started."

"What I—"

Atris interrupted, impatient. "Yes, you are an echo in the Force, a hollow space where it has been wounded! It takes an ac of great destruction to create such an empty space, but it can be done. It creates places where the Force is difficult to hear, and it is difficult to find one's way. And you carry it with you, always."

"So I've heard," Darden grit out. "But she actually wants to—"

"She seeks to create another echo," Atris confirmed before she asked. "A wound in the Force, greater than the one before, greater than the one that you caused. It will deafen all touched by the Force, until no life is left. You were strong enough to withstand it once, but few have your strength in such matters, if they are unprepared."

"So that's how she wants to do it," Darden murmured, looking down.

"She truly hates the Force," Visas remarked.

"She'd really kill everyone?" Mira wanted to know.

Darden laughed. "She's a madwoman. Or a visionary."

"Leave her there," Atton advised.

"If you choose not to follow," Atris warned, "She will murder herself at the heart of Malachor, and you will die along with her. You are important to her, somehow…" The Sith holocrons, at this, screamed all the louder, and Atris shrank back. "But I do not know for certain," she said, more quietly.

"If you know why she would do this," Darden pressed her. "Tell me."

Atris sighed. "She is willing to sacrifice herself at that graveyard world for you," she said wearily. "It is a choice others have made in the past. It is a choice I wished to make, because I cared for you. I suspect you alone hold that place in her heart, where nothing else lives. And that is why you are the only one who can stop the destruction to come."

"What else is new?" Atton muttered.

"Right now, our focus is on the destruction going on," Darden said to him. She nodded to the others, and started to leave.

"And what will you do with me now?" Atris demanded, half-rising. "Will you abandon me here on this dead world?"

Darden looked back at the fallen Jedi Master with a mixture of contempt and pity, but more weariness than anything else. "What will you do with you now?" she asked Atris. "Stay? You know what you have done, what you have become. Will you choose to continue on? You are a lie, Atris. You are hatred, you are betrayal. You are nothing. Will you remain so?"

"I tied myself, my decisions, to the Jedi," Atris murmured, bowing her head. "Perhaps only in separating myself from the Jedi can I become myself again, learn who I am. Perhaps exile is what I deserve, even though it is many years too late, and you have already returned."

The Sith scream became a roar. The walls flashed red. Darden flinched as the Dark Side surged around them. She kept walking for the door, her students with her.

Atris called after them again. "Girl—your sisters…"

"They live," the Handmaiden replied, tossing the words over her shoulder. "They will survive to serve truer Masters than you, and their honor, unlike yours, unlike mine, perhaps, remains untainted."

Darden and her students started across the bridge, and the doors to the meditation chamber shut as the Sith roar became deafening. A higher pitched scream rose from the room.

"Will they kill her?" Atton asked, falling into step beside Darden.

"Perhaps," Darden said. "If so, it is a death she has chosen. And if she escapes, she might be saved yet."

Mira brought the Handmaiden around to Darden's other side, and Darden threw her arm around the Handmaiden's shoulders, too, to help support her.

"You came for me," the girl said. "I thought I had lost you."

"You ran off without knowing all the facts first," Darden said severely. "I thought I taught you better than that." But looking at the Handmaiden's anguished face, feeling the tremors that still racked her tortured body, Darden couldn't remain angry. She squeezed the Handmaiden, and pushed some Force into her, to strengthen her. "I'm glad you're safe."

"Kreia—she said that the Council had ended you," the Handmaiden said in a small voice. "And all along she was one of those that had sought to kill us."

"The one was a lie; the other I knew," Darden said calmly, "Though I did not expect her to act when she did or in the way she did. But let's handle one problem at a time, okay? Where are your sisters?"

"Mandalore escorted them to the _Ebon Hawk_," the Handmaiden answered. "My eldest sister convinced them to accept their defeat with honor. I do not know that they will ever forgive me for what I have done this day. But I believe, in time, they will come to realize what Atris was, and be grateful their service to her is ended, at least. They were untouched by her Darkness. We can release them on Citadel Station, and they have agreed to depart in peace."

Darden looked to the others, and frowned. "We can't release them on Citadel Station," she said. "There's a fleet above Telos. There's a battle. We have to move, and quickly, or Telos will be lost."

"I see," the Handmaiden said. She swallowed then, and shook off Mira and Darden, walking with shaking steps, but unaided. "I do not suppose I shall have time to prepare myself."

"You were tortured today," Mical told her gently. "You nearly died, and some damage was done to your muscular and nervous systems. You should not take part in the battle, Handmaiden."

The Handmaiden shook her head. "Do not call me that," she told him. She looked at Darden. "I will fight. When I heard her say that you were dead, I failed you. I let my emotion run through me, and I acted without thinking. I wanted to punish her, hurt her, see her answer for what she had done to the Jedi, for leading you to the Council. I will not fail you again."

"Don't beat yourself up," Darden told her. "I'm here and so are you. Everything will be all right. Somehow. You don't have to prove anything by fighting in a battle you're unprepared for. You're wounded. And what do you mean, don't call you Handmaiden? We've always called you Handmaiden."

The Echani girl smiled slightly. "No longer, please. I am the last of the Handmaidens no longer. I am the daughter of Yusanis, yes, but also the daughter of my mother. My name is Brianna, disciple of the last of the Jedi. And I will stand with you against all enemies who face us."

As she spoke she pulled the Force in towards herself, strengthening her walk, straightening her limbs. Darden regarded her for a moment. Then she bowed, though she kept walking. They had a battle to go to, after all.

"Brianna, huh?" she said. "Nice to finally meet you. You have a very pretty name."

"Welcome, Brianna," Mical said.

"Brianna," Visas echoed.

"Brianna," said Mira.

Atton looked over Darden's head at the Echani girl. "I don't know about Brianna," he cracked. "Think I might've liked _Handmaiden_ better."

"Never yours, fool," Brianna retorted, though she was smiling.

"Schutta," Atton said gently, as they arrived at the _Ebon Hawk_. Then he bowed, gesturing for Brianna to precede them all into the ship. "Welcome aboard, Brianna. Uh—you gonna sleep in the dorm now?"

Brianna considered as they entered. "I do not see why not," she said. "After we win the battle. But where is Bao-Dur?"

Darden looked at the ground and walked more quickly towards the cockpit. "He's already fighting," she answered.

* * *

**A/N: We're coming up very quickly on the end of this story. There are only seven more scheduled chapters in the fic (eight, if you include the epilogue). I very much hope I do them justice. **

**The next one might take a while. I'm not exactly sure what I want to do with it. There's a little bit of a Bao-Dur problem, see. **

**Bao-Dur, according to canon, accompanies HK-47 to the factory to take out the HK-50s. But in the extended version (the only version where you actually GET to take out the HK-50s and halfway tie-up that plotline) the only character that actually appears in the factory is HK-47. So the question is: what happened to Bao-Dur? You cannot choose him to accompany the exile during the Battle of Citadel Station, and even in the extended version, he makes no appearance on Malachor V, save in a preprogrammed directional hologram in his remote. The exile can't ask Kreia about his future at the end of the game (though this might merely be because Kreia can't see Bao-Dur).**

**A lot of people speculate that Bao-Dur actually dies during the assault on the HK-50 factory. I figure, if that's the case, he at least deserves a really, really good death scene. But I'm not entirely sure I want to kill him. Or that I'll have the guts. I kind of want the entire New Jedi Order to survive to rebuild. I kind of want to treat the lack of Bao-Dur at the end of the game like an oversight. Anyway, I think I'm going AU again at the end of the game.**

**Basically: this isn't like **_**The Edge of Light and Dark**_**, where I knew what I was doing weeks in advance. This entire project has been full of surprises, and almost nothing has turned out the way I planned. **

**But if you'll bear with me, I'll try to finish this in a way that pays tribute to the game and to the story and characters I've created here. **

**And if you like, leave me a review telling me what you think of what I've done, or what I should do. **

**May the Force be With You,**

**LMSharp **


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